


All That We See

by armint



Series: 'All That We See' Universe [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, High School, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armint/pseuds/armint
Summary: When Jean kisses Armin at the annual Christmas party as a prank, Armin’s dignity can only be salvaged by the pair pretending to date. But with their newfound fake relationship, lines become blurred as to what they really are. Armin, whose crush on Jean has run deep for years, is suddenly thrown through a whirlwind as Jean acts like his proper boyfriend. And Jean, whose inner turmoil and secret home life is being kissed pink by Armin being at his side.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Bertolt Hoover & Annie Leonhart, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Series: 'All That We See' Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837750
Comments: 61
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!
> 
> Just wanted to preface that the characters may be a little out of character, but I'm trying to imagine them if they weren't in a war-torn, cruel, gorey world lol! I've never writen AU so this is my first time and I hope you all enjoy it!

It takes Jean all but two seconds to realize he shouldn't have kissed Armin. 

"I just, uhm -" He sputters, crushing the mistletoe in his fist. "I..I, uhm -" Armin's red in the cheeks, a look of utter astonishment and embarrassment on his face, and Jean's heart drops into his stomach.

Even someone as dense as him knows that "it was just a prank" won't work when the other person seems close to tears.

It  _ was _ just supposed to be a prank, though. A stupid one at a stupid Christmas party for him and his classmates. They were older now, some of them 18 and some 17, and Jean wanted to up the anties a little. So he bought a mistletoe and weaseled himself some liquor, something that their past parties were devoid of.

When he had disclosed his mistletoe plan with Marco at lunch, the other had rolled his eyes, snorting. "And who's the victim?"

Jean had leaned towards him, grinning wide and fox-like, all teeth. " _ Armin _ ." He whispered, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"Really? A guy?" Marco had looked half amused and half puzzled, and that just made Jean feel more assured of his plan. If Marco looked this way at the thought of it, who could imagine how someone like Eren, forever clinging to Armin, would react to it in person?

"It'd be sleazy if it was a girl!" Jean defended himself, leaning back in his chair.

"But, Jean…" Marco had paused, taking extra long to dip his fry into ketchup, before signing and turning to the other. "...isn't it sleazy because you like Armin?"

"Huh?! Where'd you get that idea?"

No, it was definitely not sleazy, because he was definitely not into Armin.

Armin was in two of his classes. They took art together, as well as AP European history. Armin was in all AP courses except for art, which he was unequivocally bad at, which Jean of course liked to point out everyday. Armin would always wrinkle his nose and hit the others shoulder, smiling. The banter that would follow would nearly always be identical, and Jean looked forward to it so much he would smile as he walked to that class. 

Jean wasn't a smiler.

It had been pointed out more than a few times throughout his life, but he had never felt more irritated than when Eren had said "I wouldn't smile either if I had such an ugly horse face." 

God, he fucking hated Eren.

He had hated him since he had met him. Eren had shown up to their baseball tryouts, angry and untrained, sophomore year. Jean had taken one look at him and laughed, earning a slap on the back of his head from his coach and fists on the front from Eren later. It was enough to build a long-lasting hatred.

Still, it was Eren’s house he stood in front of now, liquor in a brown paper bag. Marco was walking up the sidewalk from where they had parked, the snow crunching under his boots. His cheeks were red from the cold and his lips jutted out in a pout. “You didn’t tell me the mistletoe was in the backseat.”

“It must have fallen, sorry.” Jean adjusted the bag, looking up at the lit windows. Eren’s house wasn't anything great, but he had to admit it looked cozy in the snow. Christmas lights lined the window and glittered onto the snow that blanketed the bushes, the sky a dark gray. Jean could imagine the heat inside, how Mikasa always lit the fireplace and Eren's mom kept the thermostat a warm 80 degrees. Jean shivered from a biting breeze. “It’s cold out tonight.”

“It’s nearly Christmas~” Marco hummed, his smile soon falling though as he placed the mistletoe in the brown bag. “I still don’t approve of this prank.”

“Whatever, pranks aren’t meant to be approved of.” Jean scoffed, and the pair started to make their way up the slope Eren’s house rested on. As they approached Christmas music was heard from inside, and a high-pitched shriek they recognized instantly as Sasha’s. Her voice, shrill and excited, only got louder as Marco pushed open the door.

“Hey guys!” He called out, friendly, and Jean stepped in from behind him. He instantly felt a breath of warmth, the entrance leading right into the living room. The fireplace was lit and splashed the room in a yellow glow, accenting the glow of the lights on the tree and the shines on the leather sofas. Past the living room the dining room was darkened, and to its left the kitchen was bright with white lighting and clean tiles. It was all so familiar to Jean, even if he didn’t like Eren. It was where their group usually met. Since Mikasa was his adopted sister, and if two people are already there, that just seemed the easiest for everyone. Eren's parents were also fairly absent, working hard to support him and Mikasa. But Jean couldn't be damned to know what work they did or where they were tonight.

Jean caught Eren’s eye from the sofa, resting on the far end of the couch and next to Mikasa. He nodded at him, the most Jean could do to thank him for hosting. But the other just looked away, irritated. "Asshole…" Jean muttered under his breath.

On the floor were the rest of them. The couples were paired off, Connie and Sasha leaning against the empty sofa, Historia and Ymir sat near the fireplace. And sat right near Eren’s legs was Armin, like a puppy. _ Probably a golden retriever puppy _ , Jean decided.

“JEAN!” Connie jumped up from the ground, heading over to him, donning a sweater with a reindeer face coming out of it. “What’s in the brown bag?!”

“He brought liquor.” Marco answered before Jean could, shaking his head and moving to sit in the circle on the floor.

“AHHH!” Connie yelled in excitement, pulling out a bottle of vodka from the bag before Jean could protest. “SHOTS!”

“This smells like shit.” Ymir stated, sniffing at the mug in her hand.

After Jean and Connie got an assortment of mugs and cups, the group had formed a larger circle on the floor, Mikasa and Eren joining in. They didn’t know how much a shot was, really, and they passed the vodka around and poured the amount they each wanted. Jean found himself nestled in between Marco and Historia, and suddenly felt like an asshole. Marco would probably just sip, and Historia seemed apprehensive just holding hers. Why did he decide to do this?

Before he could bury his face in one of his hands Connie stood up, clinking his cup with a spoon Jean didn't realize he'd taken from the kitchen.

"Okay, okay, we all know why we're here! Or at least, we thought we did until fifteen minutes ago." Connie winked at Jean, the grin on his face doofy and excited. "It's Christmas time, but it's also nearly new years, and graduation, and college, or not college if you can't afford it or get in, so...maybe a job! And -

"Does this dumbass have an off switch?"

"Fuck you, Ymir! Anyways...what I'm getting at, is let's get fucked up! SHOTS!"

Despite the terrible speech, and the knowledge that none of them truly knew what it meant to get 'fucked up', everyone went for it. Jean felt the burn instantly and grabbed at his throat, coughing. Everyone else followed suit in the coughing fit, cursing and complaining. 

"Are you sure this is alcohol and not poison?" Eren spat out, his voice hoarse.

" _ It's not…! _ " Jean protested, but he wasn't so sure himself. It sure felt like fucking poison.

"Maybe we just need to mix it with something." Historia offered innocently, and several heads turned to her in surprise. She smiled, covering her mouth as she coughed once more. "Ymir and I brought soda and some juice."

"She brought it." Ymir corrected, snaking an arm around Historia and cuddling up to her. Jean rolled his eyes at the PDA, but his eyes landed on the blonde across from him, whose cheeks had gone pink. He felt for the mistletoe in his pocket.

It was less than an hour later than Jean felt that he should commit the prank. Since the first shot, everyone had become bewildered and goofy, grouping off and placing themselves in different places throughout the house. Jean himself had felt quite goofy -or, was loose the right word? He found himself talking to a chortling Marco on the ground, having been distracted from his prank idea. But it came back when he heard his voice.

It broke his clouded moment with Marco like glass, and he stood instantly, ruffling Marco’s hair before heading over to the blondes back. He was leaning against the wood panelled wall, laughing, when Jean tapped his shoulder.

"Oi, Armin~" Jean purred, grinning widely, gleaming with the mischievousness of it. He really couldn't pat himself on the back enough; it was the best (only) prank he had come up with. The blonde turned to him with a smile, but it dropped into a small 'o' as Jean raised the mistletoe above them. "Mistletoe!"

Before Armin could do anything more than widen his eyes Jean swooped down, kissing the other on the lips. It didn't last long, maybe 2 or 3 seconds, but it was enough to gather an angry noise from Eren and Marco's pointed " _ Jean! _ ".

When he pulled back, his satisfaction at the completed prank hit him like a brick. Armint looked  _ hurt _ .

It takes Jean all but two seconds to realize he shouldn't have kissed Armin. 

"I just, uhm -" He sputters, crushing the mistletoe in his fist. "I..I, uhm -" Armin's red in the cheeks, a look of utter astonishment and embarrassment on his face, and Jean's heart drops into his stomach.

Even someone as dense as him knows that "it was just a prank" won't work when the other person seems close to tears.

The next moments are a blur, and Jean is glad the others are seemingly as unfocused as him. They’re scattered and unaware save for Marco and Eren, with Marco ushering him to the kitchen and Eren following Armin’s trail down the hall. Jean feels limp, and like he can’t breathe, and he groans loudly as he presses his forehead against a kitchen cabinet.

“I’m so stupid.” It’s a statement of fact, and Marco doesn’t object, just snorts and laughs softly.

“Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“ _ No _ .”

“Good. Then you learned something.”

“Learned  _ what _ ?” Marco shrugs at Jean’s question, but he knows that Marco isn’t innocent. He was insinuating something. But now isn’t the best time to question it, because the liquor is there, and present in his mind and in this kitchen, and he makes himself another drink before he tries to think hard again.

The first thing he feels hardly for -strongly for?- is to apologize to Armin. He fixes Armin a drink, one that he swishes gently in the solo cup as he stirs it, as if he is a master of cocktails, and he makes his way down the hall. It takes a few tries before he finds the right room, and inside Armin is on the ground against the bed, facing the window and away from him. Jean can see his pulls pulled up to his chest, the space small between the wall and him. Jean approaches slowly.

He whistles before speaking, feeling unsure. But Armin is already looking at him. 

"Here, I brought you a drink…" Jean slides down the side of the bed, placing the cup in between them. Armin stares at it.

"I don't drink, Jean."

Jean furrows his brows, remembering a flushed Armin from earlier. “But you took that shot…”

“I gave it to Eren.” He says it bluntly, and with little emotion, so much so that Jean feels pangs of guilt in parts of his chest, belly, and shoulders But his mouth speaks before his mind.

“Your cheeks were pink.” Armin looks at him, studying his expression. But he turns away, towards the window and uncomfortable, not used to a quizzical look from Armin.

[Later, this will be revealed that Armin was blushing because Jean had a goofy grin on his face at the time, unbeknownst to him.]

“So you only come to apologize to me after getting drunk?” Armin’s words are sharp, and Jean feels the pangs of guilt in his whole chest.  _ What an asshole _ , Jean thinks,  _ I’m a fucking asshole _ .

“...I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. I should’ve kissed someone else -”

“You shouldn’t have kissed anyone! Get consent first.”

“Right, sorry, I’m an idiot.” Jean’s apology sounds pathetic even to him, and he breathes out a long whistle, feeling awkward. He doesn’t know how to do any of this, and what isn’t helping is that his thoughts feel like they’re sloshing around in his brain, drenched in cola and vodka. His fingers run through his hair, gripping it. “I fucked up.” 

Armin sighs, turning towards him. Jean doesn’t see the pitiful look he gives him. “It’s okay.”

Jean’s head shoots up, turning towards the other. “Really?” His body turns, facing Armin head on, his legs crossing. “Really?”

Armin offers a weak smile, rolling his eyes. “You look so beat up over it, just don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I mean, I guess part of me was also just upset because it was my first.”

“Ah, yeah, it was my first mistletoe kiss, too.” Jean nods his head, his face serious in an attempt to seem understanding. Armin snorts at him.

“My first  _ kiss _ .” He sighs, looking away from Jean. “I’m never going to live down my first kiss being a prank.”

Every cheesy romantic comedy Jean has seen slaps him upside the head in an instant, and he knows what he needs to do to make it right. It’s such an outrageous idea that for some reason in his current state he finds that to make it all the more likely to succeed. He grins, grabbing Armin’s shoulder. “Armin, it doesn’t have to be your first kiss.”

“Jean, I don’t want to kiss you again -”

“No, no, we just pretend it wasn’t. We can pretend to have been secretly dating. Like in those dumb movies. Who would actually imagine people trying to imitate that?”

Armin takes a deep breath before mumbling, looking away from Jean. “What’s more embarrassing than pretending to date you after that?”

“We can say we just haven’t come out officially, told anyone.”

“And that’ll solve things?”

“It’ll make it less awkward, maybe…” Jean twists his mouth from side to side, doubt creeping in. He can see that Armin agrees with that doubt, his head shaking.

“You’re drunk, Jean.”

“I -no, yes. Okay. Yes. I am.” Jean grips his shoulder, making his expression serious. “It could work. It’d save your ‘embarrassment’.”

Armin eyes him, unsure, before looking away. “It won’t be the truth.” 

But that next Monday, as Jean was depositing books in his locker, a shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Armin. “Oh, hey Armin…” He mumbled, the other looking at him with a pointed aggression, his cheeks flushed. Jean swallowed air.

“Okay.” Armin huffed out. “Let’s do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I feel like I'm just establishing everything so far. If anything is confusing please leave a comment ^^

Armin couldn’t handle the embarrassment.

  
It was too much, way too much, and he couldn’t be more relieved when his friends went to get breakfast in the cafeteria. He said he’d watch their bags, but there was a hot anger building up in him, and it was all because of Jean.

  
He liked Jean. Jean was a friend. Jean was a good person. These were facts, Armin knew, but what he did was stupid and detrimental to his high school experience.

  
_Okay, maybe a little dramatic_ , he thought.

  
But it did feel that way. He had enough stuff to get picked on, things that he knew were true about him; he was small, he was pretty, and he was reserved by nature. They were things he recognized were true, and things he recognized people would pick on. It was just normal.

  
But the thing was that your first kiss was different. It was exciting and big when you were young, but when you got to a certain point in high school you were expected to have done it, and looked down on for not having done it. Of course not everyone was like that, Mikasa and Eren had reacted with sympathy at the party and after, but the teasing from the others had been a ceaseless train of jokes and ridicules. It was too much.

  
Armin didn’t know where Jean was, but he was going to find him before the first bell. He was sure of that, and his friend's bags would be fine. He made his way up the stairs and onto the second level, and from there he started for the hall that had a tall, vaulted ceiling, and large windows. From the windows the baseball field could be seen across the street, and he only had to glance to see if they were practicing. Once there he looked, and seeing the field was empty he kept straight, towards Jean’s locker. He didn’t want to wait until second period to see Jean. He wanted to do this _now_.

  
When he turned into the hall, it was empty except for a crouched figure, the hair dyed gray and peaking over the door to the locker. Jean.

  
He paused at the end of the hall, sucking in a breath as he remembered the feel of Jean’s lips on his. The memory kept popping up and there was nothing he could do. He’d be trying to do his homework and the memory would pop, he’d be trying to sleep and feel dizzy from the thought of it, the thought that Jean had kissed him.

  
Armin shook his head, trying to shake away the thought, and headed towards the other. He stopped just beside him and Jean looked up, taken aback. “Oh, hey Armin…”

  
He sounded nervous and looked just the same.

  
“Okay.” Armin huffed out. “Let’s do it.”

  
Jean didn’t respond, staring at him, dumbfounded. _Does he even remember?_

  
“What you suggested...let’s do it. I want to do it.”

  
The other one stood up, looming over him, and Armin realized then how close he had stood to him. They were inches apart, and Jean being crouched earlier had made him not realize the actual distance. The feeling of them kissing flashed in Armin’s mind and he backed up.

  
“Armin…” Jean wrinkled his brows together. “Are you sure?”

  
Armin nodded, adjusting the straps to his backpack. “It’ll just be easier that way.” He sighed.

  
Jean nodded slowly, taking in what this meant. Armin was well aware that Jean had floundered when he brought up the idea, trying to bring a smile to Armin’s face, to not seem so bad. It was a side of Jean he felt very few people saw, maybe only him, Marco, and Jean’s family. And so the proposition of what they were going to be doing was just sinking in. Armin squirmed in his spot, feeling uncomfortable with it all.

  
“And you’ve dated guys before…” Armin points out, quiet, although the hall is still empty. Jean matches his gaze, nodding. He had dated two guys before, both he met from an app, and both who he broke up with in less than two weeks.

  
“You haven’t.”

  
Armin sighs.

  
“Everyone knows I’m gay already.” Jean nods again, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away. It was something everyone had known, since even middle school, and Armin had never truly come out. There was no need to.

  
“Besides, having someone scary like you be my ‘boyfriend’ will probably get a few bullies off my back.”

  
“Huh?!” Jean wheezed, an incredulous grin on his face. “Me? Scary?”

  
Armin rolled his eyes, and as a small group of people turned the corner of the hall, loud with laughter, he grabbed Jean’s arm. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”

Honestly, Armin had a crush on Jean. _Had_. With a ‘d’ instead of an ‘s’.

  
He had taken a while to get over it, deciding first that talking about it with the robotics club members wasn't a good idea when Marco joined. It wasn't that he would think Marco would ever mention it to Jean, but the thought of making Jean's best friend keep that secret from him felt wrong to Armin. So he stopped talking about it.

  
Eren never said he was relieved, but Armin could see him more relaxed when Jean was brought into the conversation, or if he shared fries with Armin at a fast food joint. And it was definitely easier for Armin to not see Eren glaring whenever Jean would pull the blonde close by an arm around the neck, walking with him in their pack, to wherever they happened to be going that day. It could be to the Walmart just down the street from their school, or the various fast food restaurants in the area, and Armin would savour those moments. He liked Jean, and his muscular baseball arms around him was something hard to forget. Armin had tried.

  
"Okay," Armin started, shutting the door to the piano practice room. It was small, but it was open for all students before school started, and the walls were covered in soundproof foam. Jean settled onto one side of the piano bench, stradling it. Armin remained standing. “We need to get some details down.”

  
Jean nodded in agreement. “Lay it on me.”

  
“Well...I think we should say we started dating a week or two before the party, and that we hadn’t set clear boundaries yet. That’s why I got upset when you kissed me.” Armin pauses, waiting for Jean to interrupt, but he gives no signs of speaking. For once, Armin thinks. “Let’s say it was two Wednesday’s before.”

  
“I have practice late on Wednesdays -that could conflict with the story.”

  
“Did you go straight home after?”

  
Jean nods.

  
“Okay, so we’ll say we met after. I didn’t hang out with anyone that day.” Jean nods again, and Armin chews on his bottom lip, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how this was going to pan out, and Jean seemed so subdued from the whole thing. He just hoped things would be normal. “I just want things to be normal.”

  
“Alright, normal but we’re dating.” Jean nods again, but a sly grin comes on his face, and Armin feels his stomach twist. “So when are we kissing again?”

  
“Never -”

  
“But we’re dating. To prove you have experience.”

  
“I -”

  
“We have to prove it.” Jean’s grin drops, and he shakes his head at the blonde, standing up. Armin presses back against the wall, imagining Jean kissing him right then, pressing him against the walls and grabbing at his waist -

  
But instead Jean just slings his bag over his shoulder, checking his watch. “I’ll just kiss you on the cheek. Let’s have lunch today, too.”

  
“I study during lunch, though. We have tests coming up.”

  
“Eren’s in my lunch period.” Jean grins, toothy. “We can start then.”

Armin didn’t like skipping the library during lunch, but he figured this was for a good cause: his dignity.

  
The school had split the lunch periods into 3s: A, B, and C lunch. A lunch ate lunch before 4th period began, B lunch ate their lunch in the middle of 4th period, and C lunch ate their lunch after 4th period. Armin had C lunch, and although his best friend shared it as well, Eren understood his need to study. He had too many AP classes.

  
“Oi, Armin!” Marco called to Armin out of the daze he was in, standing at the edge of the vast amount of voices and students in front of him. They collected around round tables, each their own selective watering hole, and Armin found Marco to be just a row inside the square cafeteria. His table was empty, and Armin felt a little relief at that. When he approached Marco, the other beamed up at him. “You don’t have to worry. Jean already told me everything.”

  
“Oh.” Armin was taken aback, sitting beside him. “He did?”

  
“He told me about the mistletoe stunt before he pulled it,” Marco explained, looking a bit guilty. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

  
“Well, it’s in the past now.” Armin settled on saying, not wanting to make Marco feel uncomfortable or guilty. He wasn’t in charge of Jean. But still, Armin found himself asking -”Where’s Jean?”

  
"He's usually late." Marco supplies before beginning eating. Armin twists his mouth from side to side, feeling nervous, before sighing and deciding to go after the lunch his parents made him: a quinoa salad with kale, tomatoes, and a creamy dressing, and meatless chicken cutlets on the side. His mouth was full when a figure appeared beside him.

  
"Armin?" He looked up, meeting Eren's confused face. "Why are you at lunch?"

  
"Why do you think, jackass?" Jean's voice is harsh and amused, and he slides in between the two of them into a seat. Armin feels his throat constrict, and Eren's neck has gone red hot. Jean completely ignores him though, the glare boring holes into his back, and smiles at Armin. "You're too far." Jean's fingers hook under Armin's chair, dragging it almost directly beside his as Eren stumbles backward and out of the way.

  
" _Asshole_ -"

  
"There." Jean swings his arm around Armin, lazily leaning back in his chair. Although Armin has felt the latter swing his arm around him so many times, he has to fight down the blush. _Think of math homework, what's due tomorrow? Have I finished the homework or just the chapter and what if_ -

  
"Armin…!" Eren's voice is stunned, and it pulls him out of his thoughts and his physical reactions to the current going ons. He cranes his neck towards Eren and speaks, the words sounding foreign and distant to even him.

  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Eren...I just wasn’t sure when the right time was.” Eren wrinkles his nose and brows together, looking hurt and shocked, and it pangs Armin's chest.

  
“You’re with him?” His words sound hollow.

  
“...yes.”

  
"...okay."

  
Eren walks away and doesn't come back the whole lunch, and Armin can't help but feel guilty. When they leave the cafeteria Jean still had his arm around him. Flurries of texts come to his phone, about him and Jean, how the kiss at the party wasn't the first, and Eren being okay with it and it's so much to take in that Armin buries his face in his arms the rest of the day.

  
At least one problem is solved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Sorry this took a while to get out. But I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I don't think I've mentioned it before, but, when I'm writing this I'm imagining Armin has his short hairstyle. I feel like since in the manga when he hits that age he has this haircut, it would be the same in real life.
> 
> Also, I made the story Mature for cussing. I don't know much about rating on this website, and I wouldn't want to get this taken down for being rated Teen but having too much cussing for that.
> 
> Anyways, hope you are all safe and well! Enjoy!

"What's going on with you?" Marco had trotted up behind Jean, the pair having just left the party. Jean had disappeared for a bit in another room, and after a while came out, pissy and flustered. He had tossed his keys at Marco’s chest and headed for the door.

“Let’s go.”

Marco had smiled sheepishly at the others, following his friend. Jean was a good few lengths in front of him once Marco had slipped his boots on. 

"Why do you look so upset? What happened?" Marco called out to the others back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fucking nothing!" Jean spat, stopping to stand by the passenger door to his car, rubbing his hands in front of him. Marco paused on the sidewalk, watching him, his expression unreadable. Jean cursed, a pang of guilt in his chest. " _Sorry!_ "

"You give the worst apologies." Marco said, shaking his head and heading for the drivers side, inserting the key in the door.

"Yeah, I realize that." The car door opened with an uncomfortable squeal from the henges, and Marco clambered inside, reaching across the clutch to unlock Jean's door. Jean had followed, sighing heavily once inside. “Is there anything worse than tonight?”

“Lots of things,” Marco paused, turning the key in the ignition. The car sputtered to life. “Murder, school shootings, racism, fascism -”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, _oh my god_.” 

Marco had a way of being inhumanly level headed.

It was something that was beyond annoying to Jean, but also something he found himself constantly relying on. Sometimes he would wonder why Marco was best friends with such an asshole like himself, but then he’d figure it was probably Marco’s level headedness that made it possible. And it was that level headedness Marco would be feeding him right now had it not been for the text he had received.

**I’m catching a ride with Thomas. You should probably give your boyfriend a ride!!**

Jean found himself wandering the halls, half-hoping he’d spot the blonde hair of his “boyfriend”. While their friend group didn’t hang out every day, Armin was almost always with Mikasa and Eren after school, they were one of the friend groups within the friend groups; like Connie, Sasha, Historia, and Ymir. And him and Marco.

He was just about to give up the search when he glanced down a semi-empty hall, spotting Mikasa and Eren idling by some lockers, staring at their phones. It was obvious they were waiting for someone.

“Yo!” Jean called out, approaching. Mikasa glanced up, offering a wave. Eren looked at him and offered him the finger. Jean clenched his teeth and breathed haughtily through his nose. “Have you guys seen Armin?”

“He’s in there.” Mikasa pointed at the classroom across the hall, and Jean bent forward, peering around the lockers to see Armin talking to one of the teachers. “Oh, and congrats by the way.” Jean leaned back, raising a brow at her. She remained expressionless. “For dating Armin.”

“Oh…” Jean could feel Eren glaring at him, and he pushed his hands into his pockets, grinning at her. “Thanks!” It was enough to draw a scoff out of Eren, which satisfied him enough. Rubbing this in Eren’s face was definitely a benefit of this situation.

“Hi guys,” Armin appeared at his side, holding the straps of his backpack. Jean noted how adorable he looked before shoving the thought away. _Not now_. Armin looked up at him. “H-hi Jean.”

“Hi blondie.” Jean could feel Eren’s eye roll. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Oh,” He looked taken aback for a moment, glancing between him and the others. “Actually...on Mondays one of our favorite shows airs after school. Do you want to come?”

The image of Jean sitting on Eren’s couch with a sleepy Armin pressed against his side pops into his head, and it’s enough to make something flutter in his stomach. Definitely not butterflies.

“Absolutely.”

Jean’s car is old and dingy, with the benefit being that it works. When his dad got promoted and got a company car a few years back, he handed the car keys to Jean without even asking if he had his license. He didn’t, at the time, being only 14. But he definitely had been driving it since then. First only late at night when there were fewer cars on the road, and then a little more bravely when the sun was setting, the sky a heavy orange with people heading home for the day. Marco didn’t agree to the breaking the law aspect, but Jean would never forget the doofy grin on his face when he first drove Marco around. It was a memory that made a lot of the bad from the car not seem so awful.

“Your car is trash.” Eren stated as they approached it, the parking lot in front of the school emptying. Jean had snagged a spot under a tree in the third row, and they lingered just near it as they waited for someone to pull out.

“Fuck off.” Jean replied absentmindedly, digging in his bag for his keys. He had a habit of just throwing everything in there.

“It’ll get us home quicker than the bus, Eren.” Armin pointed out, trying to appease the situation, but Jean couldn’t help feeling a little hurt that Armin didn’t defend his car by saying it wasn’t trash. It absolutely was, but why did Armin have to also think that?

“Does the heating work?” Eren asked, and Jean guffawed, looking over at him.

“You’ve been in my car before, jackass. You _know_ the heating works.” Eren just shrugged. _Asshole_ , Jean pulled his keys from his bag, _he’s just fucking with me_.

When they made their way over Jean popped his trunk, the group throwing their bags in before making their way into the car. Eren and Mikasa lingered outside for a moment, her having pulled at the sleeve of his jacket, and Jean took that moment to motion to Armin to take the front seat. It was usually Marco’s spot when he drove the group around, and if they were going to pull this off Jean knew Armin had to seem comfortable in the front seat. Armin gave a curt nod, and in the car they went, shutting their doors from the cold.

“Hey,” Jean said, looking over at the other. He turned to Jean, glancing between him and the buckle he was struggling with. “I forgot.” The backseats doors opened, the other pair climbing inside, and Jean waited until their doors clicked shut. _This has to be seen to be believed_ , he thought. He reached out, putting his hand behind Armin’s neck and pulling him just close enough so that Jean could easily kiss him on the cheek. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

Jean was just pulling away when he was jolted forward, banging his head on the steering wheel. “What the fuck -”

“Knock it off!” Jean’s seat got kicked again, harsher this time, and groaning he turned, grabbing for Eren’s leg.

“Me knock it off?! What the fuck are you doing to my car!” Eren scoffed, moving his legs to where the other couldn’t reach. 

“Fuck off!”

“Are you kidding me? Who’s giving you a ride home?!”

“I don’t fucking want it!”

“Then get the fuck out!”

“No!”

There’s another kick at Jean’s seat, and before Jean can climb over and murder him Mikasa intervenes, pushing Jean’s arms away. “Eren, we’re going to miss the opening theme song if this goes on.”

“Why does it matter, Mikasa? It’s the same every time!” Jean rolls his eyes, choosing to end the battle for now. He turns back around, and while he does so he catches Armin’s anxious expression, and his stomach drops. _Why am I such an idiot?_

Jean wants to punch himself, and it’s all he can visualize as he starts the engine and pulls out of the lot. The pair in the back are still talking, Mikasa having distracted the other with mention of their beloved show, and it’s after a few stoplights that the car lulls into silence. Jean can feel that he needs to apologize, if only for Armin’s sake. He’s already tortured him enough with the dumb prank, and now he’s fighting with his best friend when they’re supposed to be pretending to date. Great.

He glances over at the blonde, in hopes of seeing him looking relaxed. But he still looks just as anxious, if not more so, as he looks out the window. Jean mentally punches himself again.

“Eren,” He starts, glancing into the rearview mirror. Eren doesn’t turn to look.

“What?”

Jean feels like he can’t speak suddenly, and he twists his mouth from side to side, feigning focus on the road. _Why is this so fucking hard?_

“What?!”

“I’m -” Jean pauses, wanting to puke. One more punch to himself. “- sorry.” 

There’s an agonizing silence that follows, and it causes him to drum his fingers along the steering wheel, begging for something other than silence. He would even take Eren cussing him out right now. _What is this_ , he turns right down their street, _is this normal? Is this how apologies work?_ He glances in the mirror again, and finds the other hasn’t moved.

“...it’s fine.” The words are quiet and pissy, but it seems to be enough to appease Armin when Jean looks over at him. He’s smiling to himself, pleased, and he looks so sincerely happy that Jean finds it hard to look away. When he makes himself do so, on account that he doesn’t want them to all get into a cat crash, all he can picture is how Armin had looked.

“Jean,” Mikasa says. “You missed our house.”

The show ended up being pretty okay to Jean. It was a low budget cartoon, one that was obviously made in the late 90s or early 2000s, and Jean could feel the nostalgia rolling off the three in waves. He sat on one of the couches with Armin, his arm swung around him and the blonde hovering just a bit away from him. It’s not exactly what Jean had pictured, and in the hour they had been watching Jean kept thinking about how he wished Armin would relax.

But he could understand it was strange. Sure, sometimes before he had swung his arm around Armin, but the action felt different now that they were “dating”.

Mikasa had a couch to herself, and on the floor on his stomach was Eren, a pillow under his chin as he watched. They hadn’t turned the light on in the room when they had arrived, Mikasa just lit the fireplace, and the room was darkening quickly as the winter sun set. It was enough to make Jean feel sleepy, because he _definitely_ didn’t spend the night pacing and worrying about everything. He yawned quietly, sinking back farther into the couch.

At the sound of his yawn Armin looked over him, and Jean flashed a grin to say _“I am definitely not falling asleep right now, this show is great!”_ . Armin smiled, shaking his head before turning back to the show. Jean leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the stucco ceiling, and let himself space out. _It's not like anyone's looking this way_ , he blinked, slow, _no one's going to notice a few minutes of shut eye_...

Armin nudged his side a moment later, and Jean straightened up, noting the upward corner of Armin’s lip. He remained watching the TV, acting oblivious to the elbow he had just put into Jean’s side. Jean felt a playfulness from him that they usually had in their art class; this was a side of Armin he loved to see. Looking at the TV, Jean tried to keep his facial expression even as he raised his hand over Armin’s eyes. 

“Jean…!” Armin huffed, quiet, and raised his hands to try to pull Jean’s away. Jean let him struggle for a moment before dropping his hand, suppressing the grin on his face when Armin glared at him with a smile. He wiggled his eyebrows at the blonde, and Armin laughed, loud enough that Eren buried his face in his pillow. Armin tensed beside him.

“I tried.”

“You made it through most of it.”

They were in the car now, Jean driving Armin home. He lived in a neighborhood just nearby, one that was more upper class, with larger houses and long driveways. Armin didn’t talk about his family’s money, but it was obvious that they had some.

“Still...sorry. I must look like a pretty crappy boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Armin paused, turning up the radio. Silent Night sung out of the speakers. “Just because people date doesn’t mean they have to share interests.” Jean considered this before nodding, stopping at a red light.

“Do you think they’ll see it that way?” He looked over at Armin, red light draping over him. 

“Eren and Mikasa?” He looked at Jean for a moment before looking forward, considering it. “..I think, honestly, Mikasa isn’t concerned with it. And...Eren probably wants to think of it as little as possible.”

Jean pauses, clearing his throat. “Are you...are you okay with that?”

“Yeah...I mean, I don’t think we’ll have to put up this act for long. And Eren did send me a text today that it was okay that we were dating…”

 _“He did? Him? Really?”_ Is what Jean wants to say, but he bites his tongue, taking the light changing as a reason to pause in the conversation. He didn’t want to upset Armin again like earlier when he and Eren fought, so he pushed that part of what Armin had said away, choosing to focus instead on what was first mentioned.

“So, uhm, how long do you think we’ll have to do this for?”

“I’m not sure. But, Christmas break is coming up. It’ll give people time to forget about it, or at least stop caring as much.”

Christmas break was coming up. It was regular classes this week, finals next week, and then break right at the week of Christmas. The break was usually around 2 weeks long and long enough for everyone to get distracted with something else. Jean nodded in a delayed agreement of Armin’s statement.

“So probably sometime soon after we get back to school?”

“I’d imagine.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, with their goodbyes short once they arrived. Jean raised the volume of the storeo as he drove himself home, just loud enough that his terrible rendition of _Jingle Bell Rock_ and _Santa Baby_ were buried under the music. When Jean got home he parked his car in the garage, still humming as he went inside and turned on the lights. His house was a two story, and Jean took the steps two at a time as he made his way upstairs. He fell onto his bed the moment he entered his room, burying his face in his arms, and furiously trying to ignore the image of Armin smiling in the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I hope that whoever is reading this chapter enjoys it. I wanted to explore more of Armin's life. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Armin’s house on the outside was a set of classic Christmas decorations, while the inside was an amalgamation of different Christmas ornaments and traditions from around the globe. When he stepped inside he was thrown for a second by the clutter -he could hear his mom chastising him for the use of that word even in his thoughts- that took up the entrance and the dining room to his right. Open boxes were stacked on closed ones, sparkly trinkets were placed here or there, rich colored clothes draped over the chairs. There was the continuation of the Christmas song from Jean’s car playing from the living room down the hall. 

“I’m home!” Armin called out, shrugging off his coat and backpack, settling them on the ground by the stairs. The coat closet was blocked off by a herd of caga tios.

“Honey, we’re in the living room!” His mom’s voice carried from the living room, and he followed it in there. The lights were off save for the tree and the fireplace, and Armin noticed his grandfather was snoring in his usual spot, the recliner still. His mother sat on the sofa, her blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun and her laptop sat on her. She smiled at him and closed it. “How was school, baby?”

Armin’s mom was fond of baby names, but he couldn’t help but admit that he did enjoy it. He knew she loved him. “It was alright. I went to Eren and Mikasa’s afterwards.” He plopped down beside her, pulling his legs up to cross them before his mom smacked them down, snorting.

“Honey, take your shoes off.” She smiled, shaking her head at him.

“Sorry, mom.” Armin smiled sheepishly, slipping his shoes off before pulling his feet up.

“You haven’t eaten have you?” She leaned towards him with a raised brow. He shook his head ‘no’ though, putting a hand over his now growling stomach.  _ I haven’t thought about food for hours,  _ he thought _ , I wonder if it’s because of - _

_ No, definitely not because of him. _

“Good, I just ordered some delivery. I got your usual from that German restaurant. I hope that’s okay?” She grinned at him, putting her hands together, praying for him to be okay with it. Armin smiled, nodding.

“That sounds great, mom.”

His mom had some more work to do on her laptop, and so he went up to his room to wait for the food. It was rare he spent a long period of time with her or his dad. His mom was a novelist, who wrote about her trips around the world and the different cultures she got to experience. She would disappear for three-four weeks throughout the year, then return home with deadlines and an assortment of new items she had collected. His father was a geologist though, and he regularly took trips with professors or students, writing paper after paper. He wasn’t close to his father.

Armin belly-flopped onto his bed, rethinking the day’s events.  _ It hadn’t gone...that bad... _

Jean didn’t like the show. That was one thing. That was fine, it was genuinely okay for someone to not be into something. But the physical aspect of it all was a lot; to feel his arms, his hand on his face,  _ his fucking lips on his cheek- _

Armin groaned, pulling the nearest pillow over his head. Jean was a disaster.

_ But only because of how I feel about him _ , Armin understood, sighing half-heartedly.

The blonde had typed a text to him before erasing it, asking to end their mutual fake relationship, before sitting back and thinking through the day once more. It really hadn’t gone bad.

And ‘it really hadn’t gone bad’ was Armin’s crutch for the next day.

It started in the morning when Jean showed up at his house. He was sitting in Armin’s driveway when the blonde had stepped from the house, the other distracted and drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. Armin had stared in awe, surprised he hadn’t even texted, before walking to the car. He was greeted by a small “yo” under the early 2000s pop punk music playing as he climbed in. It was enough to make him stifle a laugh.

Without barely a word between the two Mikasa and Eren were picked up, and Armin felt particularly hopeful when Eren hadn’t kicked the others seat once. But the positivity ended in art class.

It was gray outside, with low hanging clouds and white on the rooftops, the ground, the trees, the shadows blending into it all like it was nothing. Their art teacher thought it was fit for a lesson on darkening shading in charcoal, sharpening the barely shown shadows, and brought the class out for a quick 5-10 minutes to snap a photo of what they wanted to draw. Armin was huddled up in his jacket and walking alongside Jean, down the sidewalk that buses lined up at before school and after. Their classmates had scattered across the lawn and the parking lot.

“Our teacher’s crazy, it’s fucking cold out.” Jean grumbled, hugging at his arms. He only had a sweater on, and Armin frowned, feeling somewhat guilty for having his winter coat.

“I’m sure Mr. Berner would have let you go to your locker, Jean…”

Jean just shrugged in response though, rubbing at his arms. “Let’s just take our pics quick.”

They weren’t partners or anything, but Armin felt a sort of affinity for sticking with Jean. In this class there was no one else they really knew, and so Armin felt at ease about pretending to be a couple, like they were just friends again. Armin paused at this thought, though,  _ had we actually stopped being friends? _

“Hey, Armin, look at this ugly mushroom.” Jean bent his knees, looking in a disgusted awe at a plump mushroom sprouting from the ground. 

_ Are we not friends anymore? _

“Amazing,” Armin breathed out, bending down beside him. “It’s this cold and it’s still here.”

Armin peaked over at Jean, expecting him to look the same as he did moments ago. But his expression had changed. There was a smile toying with his lips, dimples indented in his cheeks. Armin felt his heart stop.

“ _ GAAAY! _ ”

The first thing Armin realized was Jean was suddenly face first in concrete. It took a moment to register, an actual fucking blink of his eye, that the other was shoved downwards by the head. Armin fell back as he looked up to the person that had done it, yelping in the process as his ass met concrete. But the person who had done it was already walking away, hugging his stomach with laughter alongside a friend. Armin glared just for a moment before looking down at Jean, who was for some reason still crouching down, his head implanted on the concrete. Armin looked, confused, before he saw thick blood appear at the side of Jean’s face.

“ _ Jean! _ ” Armin yelped, scrambling to put his face beside the other, his left palm flattening on the latter’s back. “Are you alright? Are you okay?”

“...‘m fine.” Jean pulled his head back and Armin took a sharp intake of air. Gravel sat on red, Jean’s forehead covered. In the red was a darker pool, a gash over his right eyebrow. His nose was a dark pink from the impact on the ground, bits of gravel sitting on the tip, and Armin reached out. Jean winced as he wiped the gravel from his nose.

“You need to go to the nurse. That’s a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine.” Jean repeated, snottily. He looked away from Armin and towards the retreating figures. Armin knew what was going to happen before it did, and he reached out and grabbed Jean’s nearest arm as the other stood, trying to hold him back. “HEY CUNTS!”

“Jean, please, it’s not worth it -” Armin pulled at Jean’s arm, trying to get him to turn around. But the others had turned, one of them mumbling “Oh, shit”, and under Armin’s palms he felt Jean’s muscles clench.

“YOU WANNA GET YOUR ASS BEAT BY A FAG?”

Other classmates had started turning around, watching Jean and Armin like they were a spectacle, and Armin wanted nothing more than to disappear. Instead he settled for putting his arms around Jean’s torso and attempting to pull him up the hill. Jean stumbled backwards against Armin’s front, but Armin kept his balance, pressing his ear up against Jean’s shoulder blade.

“Armin -”

“It’s not worth it!” Armin huffed. He had never been this close to Jean, and although he was struggling to tug the other, his mind was taking in multiple things at once. There was Jean’s chest; it felt solid and muscular, and why had Armin never realized he was? He was the catcher for his team and practiced all throughout spring and summer, intermittently in the fall.

_ “I have practice on Wednesdays.”  _ Jean’s word rang through his ears and he tried to not to focus on the muscles that were under his arms, his chest, his face -

“ _ ARMIN! _ ” In an instant Jean pushed Armin’s arms down, turning around to face him. Armin looked up at him. He was red in the face from anger, his neck even having taken on a splotchy pattern of red. Small trails of blood had traveled down to his cheeks, but Armin took note that it looked like the bleeding had stopped, or at least slowed significantly. The gash was still a dark red, but it looked the same as before. He breathed a sigh of relief just as Jean snapped his fingers in front of him, pulling his eyes from Jean’s head to his eyes. “Hey, Armin, are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”  _ Had he said something? _

“I’m gunna go.” Jean said, and Armin tilted his head to the side, confused.  _ Had he really said something before? _ Jean guffawed, playful pushing the blonde’s shoulder. “To the  _ nurse _ . God, Armin.”

“Um, okay. Good.” Armin paused, watching Jean walk off, the other throwing him a small wave over his shoulder.  _ He didn’t seem angry at all...what just happened? _

Jean didn’t return to art, and Armin found himself staring down at this blank paper, thinking. The class was loud and busy, and it drew the teacher’s attention away from him. He appreciated the alone time.

He didn’t understand why Jean’s mood had changed so suddenly, but he was certain it wasn’t because of his efforts. Eren was like Jean in that way, when there was a whiff of a fight Armin almost always found himself pushed backwards so Eren could charge at whoever. So it definitely wasn’t him that made Jean change direction so fast. The question of  _ why  _ followed him throughout the day, up until lunch when Jean didn’t show up, and later that day when Jean finally texted him that he’d been sent home for the day. Armin wanted to ask him, or at least if he was okay, and so when Jean insisted to still give him a ride home he accepted it.

From the moment he slid into the passenger's seat he could tell Jean was in pain. His jaw was clenched, and although his forehead had a large bandage on it the skin surrounding it was red and bruised.

“How is it?” Armin asked, dumbly. 

“It’s fine.” Jean shrugged, glancing at him. He was keeping his eyes fixed forward, not that he had any real reason to. They were part of the long line of cars picking up kids, and it was obvious they wouldn’t be moving for a while.  _ I know it hurts, _ Armin thought, settling his backpack between his feet.

“Thanks for the ride.” Armin smiled at him, tilting his head forehead to try to catch Jean’s eyes. The latter just grunted in response.  _ Okay, so you offer me a ride home, only to be clearly uncomfortable.  _ Armin’s smile fell, and he decided to take a different approach, one Jean might be a bit more eager to be a part of. “...those guys were assholes.”

“Yeah, they fucking were.”

“Did you say who did it?”

Jean turned to him, raising his brow. “What? Of course not.”

“Why not? They could get punished -”

“So fucking what!” Jean exhaled, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that, Armin. That won’t do anything. Those people are just like that.”

For a moment Armin wanted to argue back, but Armin could see how tense and exasperated Jean looked from the conversation, like he had ran through it a million times before.  _ Maybe he has _ , Armin realized, watching him.  _ He’s been out for a while, and has dated guys before… _

Jean looked over at him and Armin jumped, realizing he was staring. “What is it?” Armin felt hot in his face, and he shook his head, noting before the other turned away that his cheeks, too, were a pale pink. Jean sighed as the car started to move. “Don’t just stare at me like that, Armin…”

“Sorry.” Armin felt lost the rest of the way home, trying to sweep away the embarrassment and remember what his agenda had been for this car ride. It certainly wasn’t “get caught staring at Jean and then turn red like a beet and be unable to speak for the next fifteen minutes”. But, that was what it had settled on being. 

They had just escaped the line of cars leaving the school when Jean suggested they study at his place. Jean claimed he was just taking advantage of their fake courtship with a greasy grin, and Armin couldn’t say no. He felt like his head was buzzing when they arrived at Jean’s place, the house quiet and unmessy, Jean explaining that his father worked late on Tuesdays. It made Armin nervous for reasons he didn’t want to admit to be alone with Jean in an empty house, no parents home. And so he spent the evening half studying and half trying so, so very hard to ignore how Jean’s knee would brush up against his, and how Jean’s hand felt on his arm when he lifted it to see the answer before he had even tried to guess. And his clutch of ‘it wasn’t that bad’ rang through his head like a false oath.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I hope everyone reading this is well. This chapter is like, kind of a lot longer than the other chapters lol. Fair warning.  
> Hope y'all enjoy!! I would say more but I feel like my brain is fried lmao.

Jean stepped into the bathroom and was relieved that no one else was there. It was one of the cramped music hall bathrooms, two stalls with doors that struggled to lock, and a single yellowed sink in an eggplant colored counter. Jean walked over to it and bowed his head, a drop of red falling into the sink. _What the fuck was that?_

His head felt like it was split open, but the pain had basically become an afterthought. Armin’s body pressed against his felt like fire. Jean groaned and looked up at his reflection. The red was vibrant and marked his forehead fully, his furrowed brows covered, and, God, it looked like a lot of blood. If he felt dizzy he would be concerned, but he didn’t. Armin’s face came to his mind and he cursed, moving to shake his hair in frustration, instantly regretting it though from the pain.

“Go away…!” He glared down at his crotch. _What the fuck is this?_

Armin had held him, so what. He couldn’t understand why it had turned him on so much -he had felt pissed, wanting to kick that kids ass, and then a body was pressed against his and he wanted to be physical with Armin instead, in a much, much different way. The whole thing felt like whiplash and Jean hated it. He placed his hands flat on the counter and leaned forward, eying the cut. _Nobody noticed the boner,_ he thought, _they would have laughed if they had, right?_

The bathroom door scraped open and Jean jumped, standing stiff as a tall, blonde guy came in. His gaze went from a stall to Jean, and his brows practically met his hairline. “Um, wow, that looks bad.”

The comment piqued Jean’s annoyance and he turned back to the mirror, spitting out his response. “Piss off.”

“What I came here to do, friend.”

Jean wanted to punch him. He took a deep breath, though, trying to calm down. _Armin wouldn't want me to do that,_ Jean thought. As soon as the hiss of pee came Jean left for the nurse. 

It was late that day when Jean was rummaging through his dad’s bathroom cabinet that he received a text from Connie. His phone buzzed against a box of old bandages he had placed on the counter, and when he swiped it open Jean saw that Connie had sent a picture to their group chat. It was an advertisement for the arcade in the city over, the graphic neon pink with hearts made out of coins and tickets, reading in a pixelated font: 

**Love is in the frosted air!**

**We’re gifting couples this weekend with extra tokens.**

**Show up with your partner and enjoy 100 bonus tokens on**

**us when you buy a token package.**

Under the image Connie had texted that they should all go since they were couples now, and Eren had already replied in all caps “ **MIKASA AND I AREN’T A COUPLE**!”. Jean snickered, setting his phone back down and continuing his search in the cabinet. Right as he did though his phone vibrated again and Armin’s name popped up, the blonde calling. Jean knew that he was calling about the arcade, but having spent all afternoon with him, Jean wanted to mess with him a little. He picked up the phone and put on his best sleazy voice.

“H -”

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, Armin?”

“What? No. I’m calling about the arcade.” Armin paused, and Jean could hear shuffling from the other’s line. “Is this a good time?”

Jean looked at the mess around him. Several dust covered toiletries and those alike littering the countertop, the cabinet an unorganized hoarders dream. “Um, it’s fine. I’m not doing anything.”

“Are you okay with going? It could be a lot.” Jean leaned back against the counter, thinking. _How could it be anything more than what we’ve been doing?_

“Yeah, i’m okay with it. It’s going to be okay.” Jean hoped it would reassure the blonde, but he just heard the other sigh, silence drawing out between them. Eventually Jean couldn’t take it, sighing in exasperation. “Don’t worry so much, Armin. I’ll pay as well. And pick up Eren and Mikasa. We’ll go and have a good time and convince everyone about everything.”

“Jean, you don’t have to pay -”

His words were cut off by the sound of the garage opening from below. Panic went down Jean’s spine, and he stood up straight, eying the mess around him. _Shit, shit, shit!_

“I have to go, Armin.”

“Wait, Jean -”

“I have to go.”

Jean felt like an ass but figured he’d have to own it for the time being. Stumbling over a stack of toilet paper, Jean flicked off the lights and closed the door, stuffing his phone in his pocket. He hurriedly walked through his father's bedroom, hearing the garage door open as he started down the stairs. When he came to the kitchen his father was already there, setting down bags of groceries. _I was absolutely not just rummaging through your shit_ , Jean thought, going to stand by the table. His father looked up at him and whistled, wincing.

“Aw, he’s injured!”

 _Oh, right_. Jean touched his forehead briefly. “It’s nothing.”

“Always is. Brought you some groceries. The usual.” His dad smiled, placing his hands on his hips. Jean couldn’t help but notice that he had gained weight, his belly poking over the top of his pants. His hair was still ashy gray and short, just barely poking out under a baseball cap. “There wasn’t anything special you needed right?”

“Nope.”

“Grades still good?”

“I’m passing.”

“Yeah, well, you ready for baseball season?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, good. I’m just gunna grab something from my bedroom and head out. Cathleen gets so irritated when I’m late to walk the dogs.” His father talks without looking at him, picking at some skin on his arm, and Jean can’t help but feel that he’s more so talking to himself than his son.

“Sounds good.” Jean mumbles when his dad leaves the room, peeling himself from where he’s standing to put up the groceries.

Over the years, Jean had stopped knowing his dad. Or at least, when he thought about it, he only really knew him when he was a kid. Some of the most foreign thoughts he could think of were sitting in his dad's lap for Saturday morning cartoons or his dad bringing sliced oranges to his little league practices in a big cooler. The transition was anything but gradual; one day Jean was catching rides home with other kids, then his mom had finally moved out and got a boyfriend, and finally a racquetball bag by the back door was indicative of his dad being home. Then in high school he moved out.

Jean stayed at the house, bi-weeky grocery deliveries from his dad being the most he saw him. And that’s just how it was.

“Hey kid, you were in my bathroom?”

Jean looked up, holding a box of dried pasta. “Uhm, yeah. Just looking for bandages.”

“Bandages are for chumps. You only need air, son.” His dad pointed at his own forehead, tapping it. “Just put my shit back where it was, okay?”

“Okay.”

The arcade is big. It’s attached to a mall on one edge, jutting out into a long rectangle. The mall it sits with is white on the outside, but the arcade exterior is red, broken up only the name in glowing white letters: **BATTLE ON**. The doors are revolving ones and Jean could hear Connie’s excited yelling as he, Armin, Eren, and Mikasa approached the arcade. Connie is ahead of them with Sasha, and Ymir and Historia said they couldn’t come. Jean had his arm slung around Armin’s shoulder, and he looked back to see Mikasa had taken Eren’s hand in hers, Eren looking particularly pouty about it. Jean grinned.

“Come on, lovebirds~” Armin punched his side, and Eren yelped when Mikasa’s grip tightened after he tried to lunge at Jean. The night felt perfect to Jean.

Even with him and Armin pretending to date, he would have had his arm around him like this on a regular night out. Armin was just small, and admittedly adorable, and perfect for wrapping his arm around. It just fit.

The inside of the arcade is dark with neon lights zig zagging across the ceiling. The room feels large when they walk in, the ceiling tall and the bowling lanes at the back barely seen through countless game machines, all lit up and flashing different colors. It’s crowded, and _All I Want For Christmas is You_ is playing overhead. Jean felt good.

That was until he saw him -the tall blonde he had seen in the bathroom earlier that week. He was near a row of ticket eaters just a ways off, sporting a bright red polo shirt that tucked into khakis. His name tag was white and rectangle over his left peck and Jean felt irritated just seeing him. His fist clenched involuntarily, and Armin looked up at him, concerned. “Jean? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Jean shook his head, looking away from the tall blonde. _Why does he have to work here?_

“Okay, well, I’m gunna go to the bathroom real quick.” Armin shrugged out of Jean’s arm, shoving his bag of tokens into Jean’s chest. “Watch these for me?”

“Of course.” As soon as Jean’s hand went under the bag Armin was off, disappearing into the crowd by his right. Jean watched him go before turning back to the group, which was huddled together and fighting over where to start. Mikasa hung back, though, and she rolled her eyes at Jean when she noticed him looking at her. Jean snorted, looking around. His gaze fell back on that tall blonde, who was looking at him now, and Jean cursed under his breath. _What is he looking at?_

Jean let his glare sit on him for a moment before turning back, frowning. Mikasa noticed, instantly, one of her brows raising, and Jean looked down and kicked at the floor. This wasn’t the time for a fucking confrontation. He hadn’t forgotten how concerned Armin had sounded over the phone, and how the next day when they talked about it Armin did his usual panicked dead eye expression, staring at nothing and looking hollow. It freaked Jean out. He didn’t understand why this group excursion was such a big deal to Armin, but he wasn’t going to fuck it up. At least not by his own hands.

Jean sighed, looking back and noticing the guy had moved, only a couple by the ticket eaters now. _Good, he’s fucking gon-_

“Looking for me?” A deep, grumbly voice appeared from his other side and Jean jumped.

“Fuck!” The guy stood in front of him now, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He was smiling at Jean, but not the kind of smile normal people give to each other, Jean realized. “Fuck off!”

Out of the corner of Jean’s eye he could see that his friends had stopped fighting, and he cursed under his breath, gripping the bag of tokens tighter. 

“Wow, you cuss a lot.” The guy laughed, stepping forward to Jean. “You remember me right? From the bathroom?”

“The bathroom?” Eren stepped forward, looking at Jean with disgust. “You guys met in the bathroom?”

Jean stared back at Eren, uncertain of his implications for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. _What’s significant about meeting in the bathroom? Unless he means…_

“IT WASN’T LIKE THAT!” Jean’s arms swung around, the bag of tokens clinking in the process, quiet though under the laughter of the other guy. It caused Jean to stop, turning to the guy and jutting his finger into his chest. “Stop laughing!”

“Okay, okay.” His laughter subsided, an all-too-pleasant smile remaining on his face. His hand reached up and gripped Jean’s. “I just came to introduce myself -” Jean tried to pull his hand away unsuccessfully. “- since you looked so cute over here -” The token bag swung at his belly. “ -and you were looking at me, too, for so long -” Jean’s foot went on the guys thigh, and he tugged backwards. “ -but I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you in front of your friends.”

Jean stopped, his foot remaining on the other, hand still captured, and he looked over to his friends glaring at him. And in the back, standing by Mikasa, he saw Armin. Armin looked like the hiss of a teapot. His neck had gone pink and his eyes, those ocean-blue eyes, could be red. Jean felt a lump form in his throat.

“Seriously, Jean?” Connie grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why are you flirting with this guy?”

“I’m not…?” Jean’s leg dropped, and he looked dumbly at his friends, trying to avoid looking back at Armin. Even so, the blondes glare felt tangible, hands on his throat. “I’m trying to get my hand back.” Jean shook the arm that’s hand was still in a tight grip.

“He said you were looking at him, too, though.” Eren scoffed, shaking his head. “For a long time, too.” At those words Jean saw Armin’s expression shift and he looked at him, the blonde’s eyes wide and the tip of his ears red. _No, fuck, Armin -_

“I wasn’t flirting with him!” Jean exclaimed, his eyes wandering from looks of disgust to anger. “We didn’t do anything in the bathroom, either!”

Eren shook his head, opening his mouth to speak before the taller guy spoke.

“We didn’t do anything. He’s not lying.” Jean’s head whipped to look at him, who was looking over at his friends with his brow raised. “I just saw him all bloodied up, from his forehead. I made a comment on it and he told me to go away.”

“Then why were you flirting with him? He’s dating Armin.” Eren gestured towards Armin, who had momentarily moved his glare from Jean to Reiner. 

“He gave me a look. I just thought he was into me.” Reiner shrugs, looking over at Armin and dropping Jean’s hand. “I’m sorry to disrespect you like that.”

“No…” Armin’s scowl turns to Jean, and he feels the back of his neck heat up. “It’s not your fault.”

When the group finally couples off and leaves the guy, who they had since learned was named Reiner to his work, Armin grabbed Jean’s arm and pulled him to the photobooths. They’re tucked away in a corner, with only a few people here and there, making the area feel more private. Jean didn’t want to have this conversation. While he may have given Reiner _a look_ , it certainly wasn’t a “come over and ask to fuck me” look. And why couldn’t Armin just believe him?

Armin pulls them into the booth that presses against two walls, pushing Jean to go in first. Jean presses back against the wall of the photo booth, crossing his arms, shooting the blonde a pointed look as he sits beside him. His thigh presses against Armin’s and the blonde groans, feeling _very much like not touching him_. Armin makes sure the curtain is fully closed and there aren’t the shadows of feet just under it before turning to Jean. 

“If we’re going to keep pretending, you can’t act like that!” Armin spits out, verbally spanking Jean. Jean can practically feel the smack of anger from the other and he recoils, feeling guilty, upset, and a crumbling base that it _isn’t his fault._

“I didn’t know I’d come off like that!” Jean groans, exasperated. He buries his face in his hand before wincing and pulling back, settling once more for crossing his arms over his chest. Armin’s glare is stuck to him like glue, and he squirms, looking anywhere but back at the blonde, before settling on the **Press green button to start** on the screen. The moment drags and Jean wants nothing more than to have his body absorbed into the photo booth. When Armin finally speaks, though, his voice is a lot less angry than Jean expected.

“Are you even taking care of that?” He’s no longer yelling, and Jean chances a glance at him. His mouth is still in a tight line, but he looks more disappointed than angry now. _What?_

“...taking care of _what_?”

Armin shakes his head, hissing out, “Your forehead. It looks infected.”

 _Oh._ “Oh.”

Jean ruffles his hair, feeling awkward and caught up in a lie. _Best just fucking admit it_. “No, not really.” He turns to the blonde, pushing his chin up into the air. “So what?”

Three seconds pass before Armin moves to leave the booth. Jean watches his back as he leaves.

_This is shit._

Jean swings his car keys around his finger, sitting on a bench against the wall. He’s been alone for over an hour, watching the crowd of people move around, groups merging and people darting between others. It’s kind of mesmerizing, he finds, and he’s glad none of them seem to notice him. He knows he probably looks like shit, because he certainly feels it.

The guilt of upsetting Armin feels like a bad kind of drunk, running through his veins with no end in sight. _How am I even going to apologize for this?_ He huffs, shutting his eyes. _I fucking suck at apologies._

He lets his hand fall into his lap, the keys jangling as they land, and he tries to think of what to do. But how can he even think when he feels so shitty?

His eyes open when a shadow falls over him, and there’s Armin, glaring down at him. Jean blinks.

“Give me your car keys!”

“ _Huh?!_ ”

“GIVE ME YOUR CAR KEYS!” Armin practically rips them from his hands, and Jean curses, flipping a bird at him. Armin doesn’t see it, though, having turned his back already. Jean watches him, stunned, and just before he disappears fully from Jean’s sight he gets up and follows him. _He wouldn’t steal my car, right?_

Jean doesn’t say that he’s following him, but somehow Armin senses him, shooting him a dirty look over his shoulder as he makes his way towards the exit. _Eren would steal my car._

Surprising to Jean, though, Armin doesn’t meet up with Mikasa or Eren. It’s just the two of them when they make it outside, a cold wind slapping them when they step out. The pair brace the cold and head for Jean’s car. When they get just by it Armin throws the car keys at Jean, and the pair clamber into their respective seats, Jean in the driver’s and Armin in shotgun. Armin doesn’t speak while Jean starts it and fires up the heat.

“It’ll be warm soon.” He glances at Armin, who just nods in return. Jean sighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t do anything with that guy, _Reiner_.” He says the name with disgust. “He’s just a fucking weirdo.”

“What about your forehead?” Armin doesn’t miss a beat, and Jean flinches, looking away. 

The truth was that he just couldn’t afford it. He had no income, and his parents didn’t give him an allowance or anything. Jean’s dad felt he was privileged enough getting his groceries delivered personally. It was embarrassing, honestly. But Jean didn’t want to lie to Armin. He didn’t want to upset him anymore than he already had. He sighed before speaking.

“I just don’t have supplies for it. Like I don’t have the money for it.”

For a moment Armin said nothing, and an uncomfortable shame crept up Jean’s neck and onto his face, making him look away. When Armin replied his voice was quiet.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about your family being poor, Jean…”

“I’m not poor…!” Jean gripped the steering wheel, letting his head rest against it. He groaned into it. “My parents make good money. I just don’t have any of it.”

Armin sighs from beside him. “..look, just, pick me up tomorrow morning and I’ll buy you supplies.” _What?_

“Armin, no -”

“If you want to still be in my life you’ll say yes and shut up!” Jean pulls back from the steering wheel, looking with a raised brow at Armin. His expression is sour, and Jean snorts, impressed.

“Wow, Armin. I didn’t know you could be so forceful.”

"I'm _forceful_ because I care about you, Jean! We may not be really dating but I still care about you!"

"O-oh." Jean can feel the blush forming on his face. It’s hot and a complete afterthought, Armin’s words repeating in his head. _That sounded almost like...a confession?_

"W-why are you blushing?" Armin’s voice snaps him back, and he jumps slightly.

"No reason." They stare at each other, and even though it’s dark in the car Jean can see the others cheeks darken. He grins.

"Hey," Jean snickers. "Now you're blushing."

Armin huffs, looking away. "I’m not." He quips.

"Look at yourself!" Jean coos, taking Armin's face in his hand, turning him to face him. "You're so red!"

Armin looks away, looking completely flustered, and Jean thinks of what he had said earlier. And then he thinks of kissing him at the Christmas party.

And then Jean wants to kiss him again. He can feel it in the moment that he can, especially by how flustered Armin looks, and by how his hands are just in his lap while Jean cups his face. Jean recognizes it as an acceptance -maybe even an invitation?- and his heart beats faster. The idea of doing it spreads through Jean's body in a sharp lick of _need_ and he moves forward, leaning over the dashboard, his lips near on the others before a loud rapping on the windows shocks them apart. Belly-deep laughter erupts outside the car and fades as Sasha and Connie run away, darting through parked cars. Armin chuckles dryly.

“They sure are…” Armin's sentence trailer off, unfinished.

“Yep.” Jean nods, staring forward at the car in front of him. He feels the whiplash from that moment bad, and he drums his fingers on his legs, not knowing how to press on in this conversation. Armin is just as silent, and Jean steals a glance at him to see the blonde looking thoughtfully out the window. _What the fuck was that?_

It’s late when Jean pulls up in front of Armin’s house, Eren and Mikasa in the backseat. After... _that_ , Mikasa and Eren had texted to ask where they were, wanting to go home. And so they left quickly, not speaking of what had just happened, although it filled Jean’s head and made it impossible to think of much else. When he pulls up into the long driveway, Jean thinks Armin is in the same state, because he can barely muster a goodbye before exiting the car.

“Hey, wait -” _You idiot,_ Jean thinks, _we can’t look like we’re in a fight!_

Armin’s door has already snapped shut and Jean curses, beeping his horn. The blonde jumps and looks back as Jean motions him to his window. Jean rolls down the window, and as Armin leans down to talk to him Jean grips his coat, pulling him in close.

“Gro -” Eren begins as Jean kisses Armin less on the cheek and more on the corner of his mouth. “ -ooooooss.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Jean says as his grip loosens on Armin’s shirt, the other standing up straight. Armin can’t seem to do more than just nod, his expression unreadable, but what he’s feeling given away by the pink in his face. It’s shown by the Christmas lights that line the driveway and house, soft white showcasing the blondes cheeks, and lips, and blue eyes. Jean wants to take a photo of Armin like that, or live in this moment forever. But it’s fleeting and Armin is waving ‘bye’ quick enough, and it takes Jean a few moments to realize that Eren is bending over the gears and toying with the radio.

“Don’t fucking touch!” He smacks the others hands away, although he can’t seem to care. He can only think of Armin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was speaking to my husband earlier about this story, and with my intentions with it, and it became clear to me that not all of my intentions were recognizable. But, the biggest one honestly, is that each chapter shifts focus between Jean and Armin. I really hope that is recognizable lmao. If not, this bitch is getting edited. Thanks for reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write this, fuck lmao!! I really appreciate all of your lovely comments so far. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope you keep on enjoying it!!
> 
> Oh, and also, I am planning on making a series for this universe. An Eren and Mikasa one-shot will be posted soon, and after I finish this story I plan to write one from Annie's perspective. But that probably won't be for a few months. Just letting you guys know!

On the Friday before Christmas Armin’s parents would throw an annual Christmas party. 

It was a big event, one where they invited their local colleagues to attend, letting them bring their children if they had any. Armin’s house would be packed, the air rich with roasted meat and rosemary and the music quiet under laughter and the clinking of glasses. And at some point his father would give a toast, praising them for another year of enriching their world with their work. And that’s how it was every year.

Armin was sat with Eren on their living room floor, threading popcorn that would decorate the kitchen during the party. The decorations were always abundant and colorful, and if Eren rolled his eyes when it was done Armin’s mom felt she had accomplished perfection. She was sitting just across the coffee table from them, cross-legged and threading as well. A Christmas movie played on a low volume.

“Eren, you and Mikasa can come right?” Armin’s mom asked, not looking up from her work. “And what about your parents?”

“We can make it, I’m not sure about my parents but they do usually take that night off.”

Although the attendees were Armin’s parent’s colleagues, Mikasa, Eren, and his parents were the exception. When they were kids they had all bonded, parents and kids, and they were just part of the family now.

“Is Annie going?” Armin asked, glancing up at his mom. Annie was the only other kid that would attend that was his age. She was usually quiet, but she had a deadpan sense of humor that made Armin laugh.

“Uh-huh, her father even asked if she could bring her boyfriend. She could, of course.” His mom laughed, looking between the two boys. “One of these days you two will ask the same thing. Oh dear…”

"Well Armin has Jean." Armin goes stiff and he looks up to see his mom looking quizzically at Eren. Armin turns to Eren when he speaks again, the brown-haired boy raising an eyebrow at him. "Armin, you didn't tell your mom about Jean? You tell your mom everything."

"I -I was going to." Armin feels like he can’t breathe. What could be worse than having a fake relationship exposed? There’s a sinking feeling in Armin’s stomach that he should have never agreed to it, but there’s an even worse feeling, a fluttery, nauseous feeling in this throat, when he thinks about last Saturday. Jean was going to kiss him, he was sure of it.

And then on Sunday they had met, Jean begrudgingly letting him buy supplies. It had been nothing short of awkward, conversations stunted and the constant feeling that they were just hovering around each other, waiting for the other to move. When Armin had gotten dropped off he crawled into bed and stayed there till dinner.

"Going to tell me about who?" Armin snaps out of his thoughts, switching focus to his mom. She’s wearing the same expression Eren was and it makes Armin squirm.

"Jean. You've met him I think a few times, he's in our friend group…" Armin moves his mouth from side to side, uncomfortable. "He's tall. The tallest of us -"

"He has a horse face." Eren interjects, a stupid grin on his face.  _ Why is he finding this so amusing? _

"Eren…!" Armin whined, feeling exhausted.

"Ohhh I think I remember.” His mother laughs, nodding her head. “He has an attitude, right?"

"No -"

"He's definitely rude."

"I'm dating him." Armin says it before anything else can be said. 

"...you're dating someone and you didn't tell us?" Armin's grandpa asked, grinning in the doorway, and Armin wants to die right there. "So how special is this boy?"

"Tell 'im, Armin." Eren’s grin is ever-widening as he flicks Armin's knee. 

"He's rude apparently." His mom laughs, going back to threading her popcorn. "I wish he could meet your father before coming, I told you he’s flying in early Friday, right? And you know how your father gets around his colleagues..."

Armin did know. His father wanted everything and everyone to be perfect, in what Armin thought was his attempt of trying to be the leader of them. Armin couldn’t help but find his dad’s pride embarrassing.

“Well I don’t even know if Jean can come, I haven’t brought it up.”  _ And I won’t _ .

But it was just the next day, though, when Eren brought it up at lunch. Armin knew it would happen, and he wasn’t sure why he let it happen this way. He just felt weird about Jean, and his smirk-y lips, and how he looks handsome when his brows are furrowed together like they are now. Armin’s heart is in his throat and he attempts to swallow it before speaking.

“It’s just this thing, like, my parents invite all of their colleagues and their kids, and their kids dates…” Armin looks away from Jean and at his sandwich. “It’s a big party, really. Lots of people and food. Everyone dresses up, too.”

“Sounds fun.” Marco says, and Armin looks up to see him smiling, looking dreamily upwards. “Like something out of a movie...”

“...is this the wingman-way of asking me to attend?” Armin looks at Jean beside him, a smug smile on his face. He wiggles his eyebrows and Armin’s stomach flips.

“I didn’t ask him to do that, but, yes.”

Eren shrugs and swallows before speaking. “His mom’s excited to see you, Jean. Too bad her kid’s first boyfriend is such a jackass.”

“I’m sure she’s used to jackasses with you being his best friend.”

Armin sighs, ignoring the bickering. If it wasn’t worth it before they started fake dating it wasn’t worth it now, he figured. 

Before the party on Friday Eren and Mikasa come over early. Eren gets assigned to helping Armin’s mom chop vegetables and roll crescent rolls, and Mikasa and Armin get ready in his room. She’s wearing a babydoll black dress with a black and gray patterned cardigan, and she’s applying lipstick while Armin lays in his gray suit on his bed. The week had been exhausting. Well, really, being around Jean had become exhausting.

Mikasa finishes with her lipstick, and she tosses it in her backpack by his desk before flopping onto the bed beside him. Armin stares up at the ceiling, the silence between them dragging before Mikasa speaks.

“You and Jean have been acting weird.” She says, and he can feel her shift beside him. “Have you guys been alright?”

Armin can’t deny Mikasa’s perceptiveness. She’s always been that way, picking up on Eren and Armin’s troubles, and always bringing it up with them in private to talk it out. Armin couldn’t count how many times she had seemingly picked up on something and talked about it with him, always making him feel better. Armin appreciated her, he really did, but with this he just felt embarrassed.  _ She’d know if I lied, though,  _ Armin thought, sighing and covering his eyes with his hands.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Jean and I aren’t really dating. It’s just fake.” The words feel foreign coming out of his mouth, like plastic on his tongue, and once they’re said there’s a crippling realization of what he had just said.  _ She won’t tell anyone,  _ Armin thinks,  _ but still... _

“...that must be hard on you, Armin.” Her words make a lump form in his throat, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Mikasa rolls over beside him, taking his nearest hand and pulling it from his face, holding it in hers at her chest. He lets his other hand fall to his side and looks over at her. She’s close, her chin just shy of his shoulder, and she looks stunning. Armin smiles at her.

“You look beautiful, Mikasa.” A faint pink appears on her cheeks, and Armin can tell that she’s fighting back a smile.

“Do you think Eren will think so?” Armin laughs, rolling over onto his side, facing her.

“Of course he will. But you know he won’t say it.” Mikasa nods, pleased. But her smile falls quickly after.

“If you’re uncomfortable with the Jean situation, you should just end it.” Her advice is startling to Armin, and he considers it briefly. But then he can feel Jean’s hands on his face again, closing the gap between them, and Armin groans and closes his eyes.

“I can’t. He tried to kiss me.” Armin can’t see Mikasa’s expression change, but her grip on his hand tightens, and he knows she’s shocked. “We got interrupted…so it didn’t happen…”

“Armin…” Mikasa starts, propping herself up on her elbow. Armin looks up at her. “That means that he likes you.”

“But what if -” Armin pauses, rolling back onto his back. “What if the pretending is just making him feel like he does?”

“Is that doubt because you’re scared or because you really think so?” Her response is sharp, and admittedly completely on point, and Armin sits up. He doesn’t know the answer to her question, honestly, but he feels better having that question in his head.

A few of the guests have already arrived when Jean gets there. The doorbell rings, and Armin doesn’t even register the sound. He’s at the kitchen table with Eren and Mikasa, playing Old Maid. The room is warm from the oven, and it smells delightful, Eren gripping his stomach every once in a while as it growls. The kitchen table is square and to the left of the doorway, poinsettias in foiled cups in the middle of it. Popcorn garland hangs in half circles below the molding of the walls, contrasting with the dark, unsaturated blue walls. It’s the least decorated room in the whole downstairs and Armin loves it.

He leans back in his seat, Mikasa to his left and Eren across from him, just next to the door. Eren’s trying to think of what to do, pouting. Mikasa can’t stop looking at Eren in his suit.

“Knock, knock!” Armin’s mom makes a sing-songy voice, knocking on the doorway as she comes in. She’s grinning, pleased for some reason, and Armin has a moment of curiosity before Jean walks in behind her. He’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt, his hair tucked behind his ears and sitting just over the collar, his jacket unbuttoned. It fits him perfectly, and when Armin finally manages to look up at his face he looks particularly flustered, nodding as Armin’s mom talks at him and the others about friendship, or something. Armin picks up a few words, but he feels stunned and warm at his cheeks. Jean is  _ hot _ .

When Armin’s mom leans more towards Eren, the pair laughing together, Jean looks at Armin for the first time. His gaze flicks between Armin’s suit and his face and Armin stills. Jean locks eyes with him and Armin’s heart speeds up, feeling Jean’s gaze throughout his whole body.  _ How is he doing this to me? _

Armin’s mom places a hand on Jean’s shoulder, and he looks away from him, his expression softening. Armin lets out a long breath, noticing Mikasa staring at him. She smiles and mouths ‘he likes you’. Armin just shakes his head, though, and looks back up at Jean as his mom says her goodbyes. She winks at Armin on her way out. Eren goes back to his cards, and Jean rounds the table to sit beside Armin. 

“Hey,” He slides into the chair next to Armin, and Armin nods at him, smiling, trying to act natural. Trying to not look like he wants to push the poinsettias on the ground and makeout with Jean on the table.

It’s a little while later when they get their first private moment. They’ve moved from the kitchen, and Eren and Mikasa have gone to stand by Eren’s parents in one of the circles of people that have taken over the first floor. It’s loud and familiar to Armin, but he can see that Jean is overwhelmed, his cool demeanor gone, and Armin leads him to his grandfather’s bedroom that’s just past the living room. Across from it is the study/library, and Jean peaks inside it while Armin opens the door. It’s empty and quiet, and Jean’s follows Armin in after he flicks on the light.

“Sorry that it’s a lot.” Armin starts, sitting on the edge of his grandfather’s bed as Jean pushes the door closed, leaning against it. He snorts.

“It’s not your fault, Armin. I just didn’t expect it.” Jean lingers by the door, and it gives Armin the same tension that he’s felt all week between them. It’s thick, tangible, and enough to make Armin get up to pace around the room. “Your room?”

“My grandfather’s.” Armin stops at the desk, toying with a book on top of it. He can  _ feel _ Jean staring at his back.

“Armin -”

Jean’s interrupted by the door opening, and Armin looks over to see him stumble forward, Annie peeking inside. She looks at Jean, unphased.

“Sorry.” Jean just waves ‘it’s nothing’ at her, and she comes into the room with a tall boy in tow, his skin tanned and his hair a dark brown, clipped short. She nods her head at Armin. “I figured you’d be in the usual hiding spot.”

For most of the party, Armin would spend it with Annie in his grandfather’s bedroom. With the door closed no one would bother them, but it was on the first floor, and close enough to hear when dinner will be served. They would watch the small TV that was in the corner, lounging on the bed. They had been doing it consistently for the past few years, and the first time Armin’s grandfather had caught them he had said “You guys hiding in here? Damn, can’t even hide in my own bedroom then, I guess.” before shaking his head and returning the party. That was the first time Armin had heard Annie laugh.

“This is Jean,” Armin gestures towards him, and Annie nods at him, the boy beside her smiling and waving at him. “He’s my, uhm, boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Annie’s eyebrows raise, and she looks him up and down. “Nice.”

“What was-”

Jean speaks up but Annie ignores him, gesturing to the guy beside her. “I brought one, too. His name’s Bertholdt.”

“Hello!” He smiles at Armin, waving at him as well. “Thanks for having me.” He’s infinitely more polite than Annie and Armin can’t help but smile.

“It’s nothing.”

Annie starts questioning Jean about himself, and Armin lets his shoulders droop in relief. Their intrusion was just what Armin needed, a break from the tension between him and Jean, and Armin doesn’t even mind when Bertholdt starts showing him a collection of photos of him and Annie. They’re mostly just the two of them at different locations, coffee shops and on hiking trails, but Armin makes him stop when a photo of them with another guy pops up. The three are sitting on a couch, and beside Annie -who looks very stoned- is Reiner.

“Hey -I met him last weekend.” Armin points at him, and Bertholdt looks up from his phone, smiling.

“Really? Where? He’s my best friend.”

“At Battle On, that arcade?” Bertholdt nods in understanding and Armin continues. “It’s kind of funny, actually, he was hitting on Jean.”

Bertholdt looks taken aback, frowning. “He was hitting on him?”

“Yeah…” Bertholdt’s confusion makes Armin equally confused, but before he has a chance to ask for clarification his grandfather pokes his head in the room.

“Toast time. Come on, kiddos.” They exit the room in a herd, and as Armin presses through the crowd to accompany his mom for the toast, he feels Jean put a hand on the small of his back. It’s subtle, and he figures it’s probably just so he doesn’t lose him in the group of people, but it’s enough to make that tension ride through his body.

After the toast they get seperated. An arrangement of holiday foods is placed on the dining table, with plates and utensils sat next to the bar in the corner. The food is delicious, and Armin eats it with his father who wants him to meet a professor from a nearby college. The man is nice enough, albeit boring, and he feels anxious over where Jean was and if he was doing okay. It takes 4 “excuse me”’s for Armin to actually be excused, and he shuffles through nearly all of the first floor rooms before finding Jean in the kitchen.

"Oh, Jean." Armin pauses in the doorway. It’s empty save for Jean, who’s hunched over the sink, his jacket on the counter beside him and his sleeves rolled up. Jean looks back at Armin, smiling. 

"Hey," Armin walked towards him, stopping almost behind him. He leans back against the island with his hands behind his back. "Your mom said they were short on glasses, so…" Jean shrugs, running water over a soapy glass.

"Thank you." Armin says, touched, earning another shrug from Jean. Armin smiles to himself, feeling warm and fuzzy.  _ He's really acting like a boyfriend. _

Jean finishes up quick, and when he turns around his hands are wet. "Paper towels?" He asks, holding his hands in the air.

"Oh, um -" Armin looks around, but Jean’s quick to find it, speaking.

"Wait, I see it." Jean steps forward, closing the gap between them in the process, as he reaches around Armin to grab the paper towels. Armin’s face is suddenly inches from Jean’s chest and he can smell the other’s shirt, just like fresh laundry, and he looks up from it to see Jean looking down at him. Jean’s gaze is unreadable, his mouth in a tight line. He looks like how he did in the car and Armin grips the counter behind him. They stay like that, suspended, before Jean sets the paper towels back down. His hands move, wet fingers cupping Armin's face, and he leans down and kisses him.

It's sweet, sunshine on skin, and Armin can't do anything more but melt into it. Armin feels like his only tie to this world is where Jean's touching him, his lips on his, his fingers and palms on his face. He wants more of Jean, to have everything just be Jean, but the other pulls away all too soon. He looks like he's in a daze when Armin opens his eyes.

"That was okay, right…?" Jean whispers. Armin nods, swallowing. Relief washes over Jean’s face, and he looks so genuinely happy that Armin is taken aback. But then Jean's kissing him again and he can't think of anything else, the feeling swallowing him whole. He shifts, moving his hands to rest on Jean's hips, and he shivers when Jean's wet hands slide to rest at the base of his neck. Jean kisses him harder, his tongue slipping into Armin's mouth, and a shocked moan is muffled by the others’s lips on his. And Armin wants more, can feel a need for it pooling in his belly _ ,  _ only to have it halted by the sound of a chair scraping the floor behind them. Armin jumps, pulling back and looking over his shoulder to see Eren hovering by the table, his face as red as the poinsettias beside him. He can't look Armin in the eye.

"Your mom was wondering about the glasses, Armin…" 

"I'll bring them." Jean's hands drop from Armin, and as he collects the glasses Armin turns, facing Eren. Eren's twisting his mouth from side to side and looks exactly like he did when he was a kid in trouble. Armin knows that he's embarrassed, and he realizes he should probably be as well, but his body feels like it's humming and his mind is just  _ Jean _ . Armin watches Jean’s back as he goes, squeezing past Eren and disappearing through the doorway.

"Sorry, you know…" Eren starts, messing with the cuffs of his shirt. "Just that it was your mom, I really didn't want to interrupt."

Armin nods, placing his hands on the island in front of him.  _ These hands were just on his hips _ , he thinks, then bringing his hands up to his now damp neck,  _ and his hands were here _ .

"It's fine…" Armin sounds wholly distant from the moment and Eren sighs again, approaching him.

"Please, Armin, I didn't want to interrupt -"

"I know, Eren." Armin looks up, shooting him a smile, trying to show that everything’s okay. Eren, now just across the island in front of him, raises a brow.

"You're acting weird, Armin."

And he does the rest of the night. He feels like he’s floating, happy, with bits of glee and shock sprinkled throughout as Jean becomes more touchy than usual. He’d hold his hand whenever they’d walk together, and touch his back and his waist if they were standing. Armin could feel that the floodgate had been broken, and it was just starting to pour out. When Jean leaves he kisses Armin again, full on the mouth, his lips warm in the cold. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CHRISTMAS IN JULY!!!  
> I really love Christmas y’all.
> 
> Also, I hope you enjoy :) thanks for reading!!!
> 
> UNRELATED: I just need to say this because I can't contain my fucking happiness. I have grown up playing Animal Crossing, started when I was 7 years old, and never have I felt such a WANT to have a villager on my island/town as I have for Raymond. I got ACNH on April 8th, have been using no time traveling, and have been so patient. And today, June 30th 2020, I found him on my 64th island tour. And I am just fucking ecstatic. That is all.  
> But also, does he remind anyone else of Levi?? I don't know why he reminds me of Levi but he does. And I fucking love Levi.

Sometimes the loneliness just hits.

It’ll be a ringing in Jean’s ears, and he’ll double over, holding onto his stomach or his desk or sink, whatever is solid around him. It’s gut-wrenching, the house being so empty. He’ll make himself name the colors of the things around him,  _ the carpet is beige, the walls are white, the blanket is blue, this shirt is red - _

And he’ll fumble for his car keys, vision blurred with tears, until he mutters enough profanities to make them seemingly appear. His first step outside the house will already feel like relief, but the feeling stays, cement in his chest. And he’ll drive till a place seems empty enough, a parking lot or a park after hours. His head will rest on his steering wheel till a red mark appears. But at least then he’ll be able to breathe.

Sometimes Marco would send him a text - _ Are you up to anything right now? _ \- and Jean would groan and aggressively wipe at his face. Pull himself together. Push it all away. How fucking embarrassing would it be for people to know how stupidly lonely he was?

He felt it that night. He was taking off his suit, or rather, Marco’s, and he felt it comb through his body from his chest to his fingers and toes. “Fuck…!” He grumbled, placing a hand on the chair beside him, the other covering his face. But then he just thought of Armin, kissing Armin. And the feeling started to dissipate, creeping off his skin, slow. _ Armin and I kissed. _

Jean had realized earlier that week how much he liked him. Just who he was as a person was great: he was smart and reserved, kind to his friends, kind to  _ Jean _ . And he was incredibly attractive. It was something he had admitted out loud earlier that week, sitting in Marco’s desk chair, the pair playing Mario Kart.

“Armin’s hot.”

Marco had laughed in shock, risking a glance at Jean. “What?”

“He’s hot. I said he’s hot.” Marco sent a blue shell, knocking Jean out of the lead. “Also, fuck you.”

“That’s so out of nowhere. Did something happen between you two?”

Jean didn’t answer. He had opted to change the subject and not tell Marco about almost kissing Armin, because God knows how hard Marco would laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It had been a week; one week of fake dating and Jean had already tried to kiss him. So, yeah, he could admit there was something there. And he had felt it all week.

It was present in between him and Armin, tugging him towards the blonde no matter how much he resisted. And Armin just seemed a mess from it; jumpy and embarrassed, quiet when no one else was around. They had two silent car rides home before Jean asked Marco if he could borrow his suit. He had an agenda for the upcoming holiday party: One, impress Armin’s parents. Two, don’t fight with Eren. Three, kiss Armin.

The kisses were the first thing he thought of when he woke up the next morning, the sound of his phone ringing waking him up. He ignored it, just for a few seconds, relishing in the memory. And when he finally answered he heard his voice.

“Hey,”

Jean sat up at it, clearing his throat before speaking. “Hey,”

“Oh, were you sleeping?” Armin’s voice sounded guilty.

“No, no -” Jean shook his head, although Armin couldn’t see it. “I was just, um...yeah, sleeping.” His brain felt like mush, and he could hear Armin chuckle over the line. Jean smiled at drawing that out of him, although it was unintentional.

“Well, whenever you get up, can I see you?”

“Of course.”

Jean was typing a text that he had arrived just as Armin started out his front door. He was wrapped in his coat but he walked briskly in the cold, entering Jean’s car with a sigh of relief. He looked over at Jean, smiling, and Jean leaned over to give him a peck on the lips. Armin seemed startled by the kiss, laughing like Jean had just done something embarrassing, obviously uncomfortable. Jean frowned, his neck going hot.  _ Is that not what this is? _

He started the car, still frowning as they started down the road. Jean couldn’t understand the laugh -was he just nervous?  _ Could he not want a relationship with me? _

A hot nervousness was just starting to take over Jean’s body when Armin reached out to grab his right hand. He pulled it into his lap, holding it, and Jean felt so relieved he let out a quiet, breathy laugh. 

“My mom loved you,” Armin said, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m glad.”  _ I tried. _

Armin’s mom had answered the door, and although he remembered meeting her a few times before he had never spoken to her one on one. She had been talkative and friendly, pulling him in for a hug after confirming who he was, and introducing him to every guest they passed - _ ”This is Armin’s boyfriend, Jean. Tall one isn’t he?” _ \- before she led him to Armin, Eren, and Mikasa. And later, when she had told him about the glasses, he knew it was her test of his character. He didn’t want to fail.

“Thank you.” Jean bit back a smile, Armin’s voice sounding way too sweet.

“Sure.”

"So…" Armin started. "Maybe I shouldn't bring this up while you're driving, but...what are we now?" Jean felt thrown by the question, although he had expected it. 

"I mean, we're dating, right?" Jean asked dumbly. 

"Well, we're technically fake dating, aren't we?" Armin replied, rubbing the back of Jean’s hand with his thumb. Jean didn’t know what to say to that -it was true, right, but what was he supposed to do about that? He glanced at Armin.

"Then should I ask you out?"

"Ask me out?" Armin seems embarrassed by the question, looking out the window. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

_ Huh?  _

"Are you seriously asking that?" Jean snorted, finding the whole question incredulous.  _ Does he not remember that I was the one who kissed him? _

"Well, I don't know! Maybe I misread how you feel…" Armin sounded panicky, and Jean laughed, sparing a second or two to look at him.

“I’m the one who kissed you -if anyone's feelings are unclear it’s yours!” He didn’t mean that, honestly, but with the way Armin was acting it was hard not to pick on him. Armin was obviously embarrassed, blushing and looking away from him. But with what Jean said he huffed and turned to him. His brows were furrowed together, and he looked about as angry as a hamster could look.

“...fine, pull over.” Jean bit back a grin.

“Pull over?”

“Pull over.” Armin instructs, crossing his arms. Jean pulls into the closet parking lot, and once he sets his car in park, Armin unbuckles, leaning over the gear shift. Jean starts grinning, in disbelief, unable to hide his amusement anymore. Armin looks positively embarrassed -red in the face, frowning to show he’s determined, his brows near meeting at the middle. He kisses Jean, briefly, and when he pulls back Jean puts his hand over the blondes, sat just near the gear shift. 

“I think you’re going to need to kiss me harder than that, Armin…” He smirks at the blonde, wanting to see how much he can push him. He's obviously embarrassed, but trying so hard, standing up to Jean's challenge. Even from just that one kiss Jean can feel the tension surrounding him, and he knows it isn't just him. Armin pouts, glaring at Jean before moving to kiss him again. He makes it rough, his hand cupping the back of Jean’s neck while his other stays near the gear shift, keeping his balance. He’s basically out of his seat, and Jean reaches, impulsive and half-distracted by the kiss, and grabs Armin by the waist to move him into his lap.

“Jean -” Armin gasps, shocked, plopping into Jean's lap. But Jean just kisses him again. He takes Armin’s free hand, lacing their fingers together. They kiss, messily, and when Armin pulls apart his lips are red. Jean wants to bite them. Armin tries to speak as Jean does, tugging gently at Armin’s bottom lip with his teeth, making him whimper. 

Jean’s hard, and he takes a deep breath, glancing out his windows. The parking lot is empty save for two other cars. His eyes go back to Armin just as the blonde kisses him, his hand dropping from Jean’s so his arms can wrap around his neck. Jean makes a noise, startled, but kisses back with just as much fervour. His arms move around Armin, under his coat, and he grips at the sweater underneath.  _ Why does this have to be in the way?  _ He wants to take it off of Armin, to strip the blonde right there, but he knows he can’t. Armin’s knee is pressed against Jean’s chest, and he wishes that, too, wasn’t in the way.

“Do you want to come over?” Jean’s out of breath when he asks, barely pulling back from Armin. Armin doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds.

“Yes.” He kisses Jean again, and Jean could just lose it right there from how much Armin seems to be enjoying himself. He wonders, briefly, if Armin is just as hard as him. Jean pecks Armin’s lips once before pulling back. Armin looks wrecked, red in his lips and cheeks, and Jean feels pleased only for a moment before thinking of how much more he could do to him. As if on cue, though, Armin shifts on his lap and Jean sucks in his breath. “Careful, Armin…”

“Oh, are you -?” Armin pauses, his arms loosening around Jean’s neck. 

“Yeah…” Jean frowns, blushing. He's never fucked anyone before, but God, did he feel like fucking Armin right now. In past relationships he was always the bottom, taking it in the ass a few times before settling that it just wasn't for him. He wanted to be the one in charge, and in the past week -okay, past  _ year _ \- he had thought of Armin being the one he would do that with. 

"You should probably -"

"Right -" 

Armin moves off him, and with a little help from Jean he moves into the passenger's seat, taking off his coat as soon as he's sat down. Jean watches him, smiling, and when Armin realizes he smiles back at him. 

“You ready?” Jean asks, although he isn’t quite sure why he’s asking. Maybe it’s because he just wants to be considerate, he thinks, but it’s more likely that he just wants to spend more time looking at Armin. He’s looking so sweetly at Jean, and Jean figures that yeah, it’s probably the latter. 

They enter his house through the garage door. It leads straight into the laundry room and then the dining, the kitchen open and to the left. The dining room opens up to the living room on the right, and save for the kitchen wallpaper the place is barren of decorations. It was one of the reasons he rarely invited anyone over, because he knew there were small clues that pointed at him living alone. No decorations, no clutter, no spare keys or shoes or jackets, no laundry hanging up except his own. They were details that Jean picked up on whenever he was home.

He led Armin inside, the pair taking off their shoes in the laundry room and placing them in the garage, snow melting off the bottoms. Once inside, Jean shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the back of a chair. He looks back to see Armin looking around, frowning. 

“Jean, I know it's only been a little over a week since I've been here,” He starts, looking pointedly at the living room. “But you don’t have any Christmas decorations up…”

"Yeah, uhm, they're in the attic." Armin looks at him, confused, and Jean wants to die right there. "I just…need help taking them down."

"What about your parents?"

"Well my mom doesn't live here…"  _ And neither does my dad. _ "And my dad just...you know." Jean doesn't know what to say, not wanting to lie, but just as equally not wanting to say the truth.  _ I don't have to tell him everything right away, right? _ He shrugs at Armin, who's looking how he does in class sometimes. The look is intense and curious, and Jean steps away from it, walking into the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"I'm okay." Jean doesn’t know what to say, and he stops, patting the sides of his legs awkwardly. “Couch?” Armin suggests, smiling. Jean nods and follows him into the living room. They sit beside each other, Jean having one leg propped up, turned towards Armin.

"Can I kiss you again now?" Armin sucks in a breath at the question, his body going rigid. Jean smirks, shifting closer to Armin on the couch. He reaches out, placing a hand on Armin's thigh, and it slides up as he leans in close. Armin is looking off to the side, clearly trying to manage whatever it is between them. "Armin,"

"What?"

"Look at me."

He does. It feels like there's a pulse between them when they lock eyes, and Jean grips the other's thigh, bracing himself. While he had managed to keep a grip the night before, they were at a public party and even had Eren walk in on them, and in the car anyone could have seen them. But now they were alone. And Armin looked so perfect, wrapped up in the tension. Jean leaned forward, and Armin met him in the middle, the pair melding together in a heated kiss. It was different from the ones before, needy and wet, uncoordinated. 

Jean slips his tongue in the other’s mouth and he can feel the hot, shocked gasp against his own, and all he wants to do is draw more sounds out of Armin. Jean shifts, standing slightly on his left knee. He kisses Armin with more force, gently pushing the blonde to lay down, who melts under him. Jean moves over him, breaking the kiss to nuzzle his face into Armin’s neck and kiss and nip at it. The blonde gasps, his arms wrapping around Jean as his head leans back, exposing his neck. Jean takes a moment to hover above it, eying the sight. Armin looked beautiful.

His skin was pale, the spots where Jean had nipped at it red in a sea of creamy skin. Jean moved to touch Armin's neck with his fingers, gently running a finger from his chin to the collar of his sweater, making Armin shiver. God, Jean wanted to see more of him.

His lips met Armin's neck again, but his hand moved down the blonde’s torso and pushed itself under Armin's sweater. His hand met a soft belly, softer than he had imagined it would be, and Armin gasped as Jean splayed his hand out. Armin's hands moved to grip at Jean's shoulders.

"Jean, wait -" Jean paused, pulling back. Armin was breathing hard, his eyes glazed over. "L-let's decorate."

“You want to decorate? Right now?” 

“Yes...yes, please.” 

With Armin’s help they’re able to bring the boxes down, lining them up in a row along the dining room wall. When bringing the tree down it had nearly crushed Armin, and while Jean had scurried down the ladder in concern Armin had just laughed, pressed up against the garage wall with the tree box pinning him there. It was silly, a sweet side of Armin, and Jean kissed him instead of helping him, the blonde laughing against his lips.

Armin insisted on playing Christmas music while they decorated, and for the first time in months the house was filled with noise. Jean relished in it, a smile unable to leave his face, as they pieced the tree together and wrapped the tree up in colorful lights and white garland, fake sugar-coated candy placed over it. The ornaments were old and wooden, Jean’s grandparents, and Armin took the time to look at each one individually.

It was when they finished, Jean reaching up to place a gold star at the top, that Jean’s gut twisted. It was similar to the feeling that would wrack through him, something sister to it, and it screwed with the smile he tried to keep on his face. The house had gone dark, the sun set and the only light from the tree. He looked over at Armin, who was smiling up at the tree. The colored lights sprinkled his face and his hair, and Jean was brought back to when he was in the car last week, having just kissed him on the cheek goodbye. Armin looked at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jean.” 

Jean felt breathless for a moment, trying to keep a grip. 

"Merry Christmas, Armin." Jean's voice shuddered when he spoke, and he pulled Armin to his chest, embracing him. The blonde sighed, content, his arms wrapping around Jean's waist. He rested his head against the blonde’s, looking from the tree to the dining room and kitchen and hallway, darkened save for the light that faded into them. He didn’t understand why he was feeling the way he was, but he did recognize that there was happiness in his chest, fuzzy and warm. And, he could admit, he was relieved that Armin was there. His face moved, nuzzling into the blonde locks. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIIII
> 
> This is a shorter chapter, but the next one I think will be quite long. I am very excited to write it.
> 
> Also, once again, HAPPY CHRISTMAS IN JULY!!!

Armin had panicked.

He expected to kiss Jean more when they met up, but he wasn’t prepared for how quickly they had moved. From Jean pulling him into his lap in the car and Jean touching his belly he had felt overwhelmed, and it was a good kind, he recognized, but it was too much too soon. And Jean had respected that. But thinking back on it was almost dizzying, and he would try not to. 

He would slip into the library downstairs, and pick a random book from the shelf - _ Understanding Earth, History of Exploration.  _ He’d have to read the words over, tapping his fingers over the licked corners, until he’d give up. And then he’d think of how Jean wouldn’t answer about his dad, about how he had seemed on the verge of tears when they finished with the tree, and he had to ask himself: how much did he really know about Jean?

He hadn’t known he didn’t live with his mom, he hadn’t even known Jean’s parents were separated. He had never mentioned it, in the countless interactions they had, the numerous classes, the multiple outings with their friends. Every time Jean was just smirking and laughing, or fighting with Eren. There was no sign that anything was wrong. The one time anything had seemed wrong was when Jean admitted his parents weren’t buying him medicine for his cut, and at the time Armin had just figured it was a “Get a job, no allowance” type situation, albeit cruel. But now, as Armin was laid out on one of Eren’s couches, the other watching TV on the other one, Armin wondered if his father even knew about the cut.  _ Could that be possible? _

The claymation Rudolph movie was on TV, a whole marathon of Christmas movies playing before Christmas Eve the next day. Eren was laid out on the sofa perpendicular to the one he laid on.  _ He’s so relaxed,  _ Armin thought, staring up at the ceiling. Armin felt like he couldn’t relax since Saturday, like all of the cells in his body were buzzing, and at any given moment he would just pop out of existence. His hand moved to his stomach and he imagined Jean’s there instead.  _ Jesus Christ. _

“Hey, Armin, are you even paying attention?”

The question brought Armin out of his thoughts, thankfully, and he turned his head to see Eren looking back at him. His brow was raised.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.” Eren shrugged, going back to the movie. Armin wanted to talk about Jean, but would Eren be the right person to do it with? He sighed, waiting a moment before deciding to just ask him. “Eren...has Jean ever mentioned his home life to you?”

“Huh?” Eren’s head shot back at him, flabbergasted. Armin was already looking away, though, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t react to Eren’s astonishment at all.

“Sorry, that was a weird question to ask.”

Eren sat up, turning to sit normally on the sofa. He rested his palms at his sides on the couch. “He’s never mentioned anything. Why?”

“I just find it odd.” 

“Odd how?”

Armin was thinking, making sure that now he was having this conversation he was right in assuming what he was thinking. He took a few moments before responding. “He never talks about it, and the group never really goes over to his house.”

“So? We rarely go to Sasha’s.”

“Sasha lives outside of town, though, it’s far. And when we go her parents are there, right?”

They had only been to Sasha’s a few times. Her parents owned a local meat and jerky shop, nestled in the woods that sat south of town. The few times they had gone to her house it was difficult, Sasha and Jean being the only two with cars, and with Sasha not driving them over left a handful of them with complaining parents that drove them. It just wasn’t ideal.

“I guess the few times we went her parents were there. At least her dad was, I think.” Eren responded, trying to remember. Armin disregarded him, though, continuing.

“But I’ve been to Jean’s house, and his parents are never home. And I didn’t even know his parents were separated until last Saturday.”

“How did that come up?”

“He said he needed help bringing down decorations from the attic, and when I mentioned his parents helping he told me.”  _ But he didn’t know what to say about his dad _ , Armin thinks, keeping that part to himself. Somehow he knows that saying that would be revealing too much of Jean to Eren.

Eren goes silent. Armin hopes he’s coming to some conclusion, something that’ll help him, but eventually he just sighs and turns back to the movie.

“He’s never mentioned anything to me. But, Armin, if you’re dating him you should just be able to ask him.”

Asking Jean was harder than it seemed. Armin opted to not ask him at Christmas, Jean explaining that they couldn’t even meet up, having to drive out to see his mom. They had spoken on the phone briefly at night, Jean sounding exhausted, so Armin planned to not ask when they met up the next day.

When he opened his front door to see Jean on his doorstep, the first thing he noticed was the bags under the other’s eyes. They were puffy and dark, highlighting the droop to his eyelids. He looked ready to drop right there.

"Wow, Jean, you look -"

"I know." Jean interrupts, smiling sheepishly. Armin feels inclined to ask why, but Jean leans down to kiss him, and Armin suddenly can’t think at all. He steps back for Jean to come inside. Once inside Jean shuffles out of his coat and boots, and Armin leads him upstairs to this room. Everyone in his house is home today, and while he isn’t positive on where everyone is, he doesn’t want to have to deal with them grilling Jean or any awkward questions they might think of. They hadn’t done that at the party, but things would probably be different now.

The stairs that lead up are curved, with an open ceiling above them. At the landing railing lines the open ceiling, and to the right if the way to Armin’s room, tucked off to the side. Armin can recall Jean being inside there once, swiveling around in his desk chair. The memory feels completely distant from him - _ maybe one or two years ago?- _ and he finds himself thinking about it as he plops onto his bed and Jean looks around. But he doesn’t say anything, letting Jean take in his room again. He’s still looking entirely sleepy.

“I remember this.” Jean admits, turning to Armin. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Armin agrees, nodding as Jean sits beside him on the bed, his hands open and feel the bedsheets.

“Soft.” Jean states, quiet. Armin smiles at him curiously.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Armin doesn’t know why he’s suggested it. The situation feels different to him, that much he can recognize. Jean seems so sleepy it’s like all of his defenses are down, moving sloth-like and thinking just as slow. But Jean just shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” He looks at Armin and smiles, soft and puppy-like.  _ He’s so cute right now,  _ Armin thinks.

“Come on…” Armin moves, climbing farther onto the bed before laying on his back. Jean watches him, apprehensive, before following suit. He sighs when his back hits the bed, and Armin rolls over to face him. Jean’s eyes are closed, and it doesn’t take long for his breathing to slow, relaxing. Armin smiles.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Am not…”

Armin reaches out, running his finger down the bridge of Jean’s nose. It’s long, matching his face, and it’s the first time Armin’s thought that noses could be handsome.

He had never seen Jean look so at peace, and he sat stunted and staring. This was the guy who would fight his Eren, make snide remarks, and seem so generally pent up that he could snap at anyone over anything. And while Armin knew that wasn't just who Jean was, it was that part of Jean he found himself thinking about. Because now it just seemed laughable, a clear facade. And Armin couldn't help but wonder why it had taken him so long to figure that out.

“Your bed, it smells like you…” Jean’s words draw Armin from his thoughts, and his cheeks flush at the statement. 

“...what do I smell like?”

“Books.” A grin toys on Jean’s face and Armin picks up a nearby pillow, smacking Jean with it. Jean just laughs, opening his eyes. “Seriously, though -”

“I don’t smell like books!” Armin protests, pulling the pillow to his chest. Jean snorts. “I’ve read that people are attracted to others that smell like their family members, like their parents or siblings.”

Jean scrunches up his nose, staring up at the ceiling. “Gross.”

Armin pauses, thinking. He feels dangerously close to the subject of Jean’s family, although the other doesn’t seem to catch on, looking just as relaxed as he did before. Armin doesn’t want to destroy that peace, though, and he sighs. Jean opens an eye and turns to him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, fine, not books -you smell like honey.” Jean grins, the sleazy one he does sometimes, and Armin can barely pull away before Jean has his arms around the blonde and is pulling him closer. “Sweet and  _ sticky _ ~” Jean coos, placing his lips on the blonde’s neck. He sucks, gently, and his mouth makes a popping noise when he pulls back. 

“Jean, I swear to God -” Armin’s trying to ignore just how fucking good that felt, thinking of how he could very easily get a hickey. He had thought about it multiple times on Saturday, little bits of panic throughout the day, not that it was enough to make him push Jean off him. But it felt different in his room, when the door was cracked and his mom or dad could be just down the hall. “ _ No hickies _ !” He hissed, quiet. Jean laughed, pulling back to kiss peck Armin’s lips.

“Alright, alright.” Jean sighs, settling back down on his side, his hair pooling on the bed beside his head, eyes closed. His arm stays settled over Armin, and he’s so close Armin can feel his breath on his hands that are still holding the pillow. “What do I smell like?”

Jean gives Armin a moment to register the question before his eyes open, light brown and curious, falling fully on Armin. His look is all too much and Armin just wants to break the tension.

“Um...gym socks?”

Jean’s face looked aghast, and he sits up on one elbow, retracting his other arm. “Armin, are you serious?”

Armin can barely stifle a laugh, and he rolls onto his back, pulling his pillow over his face. 

“Armin, are you -” Armin laughs into the pillow, hugging it tightly. Jean’s sputters are muffled. “Are you serious -hey, Armin -”

A tug of war on the pillow ensues, and Armin’s weak to Jean’s fit body. Armin covers his mouth, grinning, as Jean tosses the pillow behind him. A shadow falls over Armin’s face as Jean climbs over him. There’s the same tension that was there before, but Armin still feels giddy from what had happened, and Jean is smiling down at him. “We don’t have to go far today.” It’s the most perfect Jean could have said. Armin stills as Jean slowly removes his hands from his face. “We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Armin nods, his hands falling to his sides. He’s still smiling when Jean kisses him.

They do take it slow. Up until school started again they would spend time together, mostly goofing around, with Armin never bringing up Jean’s family. It felt wrong, a spec outside of the bubble he felt they were living in. Mikasa called it the honeymoon stage, where everything was peachy and lovey-dovey, and Armin found that he didn’t quite mind it being like that. Jean would open up to him eventually, he figured, and it wasn’t his place to pry it out of him, either.

The group seemed unaware of any changes that had happened between them. When they had met the day before they’d return from break, playing board games and watching movies, Armin realized how touchy Jean and him had always been. While Armin felt he would be embarrassed if Jean kissed him in front of everybody, there was nothing strange about Jean keeping an arm around him constantly, sharing drinks and food, and seemingly being unable to not be touching each other.

They were at Eren’s house that day. A few were on the ground, playing a board game, Armin being one of them. He was leaning back against the sofa, in between Jean’s legs as he sat and watched a movie. And it was then that Marco caught on.

Jean had reached out, petting Armin’s head absentmindedly, Armin smiling at the touch, both completely oblivious to Eren’s look of shock and embarrassment as he looked away. But Marco caught it, and he feels the embarrassment as well, like he saw something that was private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, next chapter will not feature a lot of Armin, like at all, hehe. Please look forward to it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot of dialogue haha. Sorry it took me a while to update, had a bit of a writing slump and then the past weekend happened and woh.
> 
> Also, I have written and posted a EreMika fic that is based in this fic's universe if you'd like to check it out. Thanks for reading guys!!
> 
> PLEASE ENJOYY!

"Did something happen between you two?" 

Marco was sitting next to Jean, the pair spending their free period in the library. It was the first day back, early afternoon, and they were sat at a table tucked into the corner by the window. Jean was leaning against his arm and more interested in watching the snowfall than what Marco had said.

“Between two who?”

Marco sighed, putting his pencil down and turning to the other. “Between you and Armin.”

"Between me and Armin?" Jean felt taken aback, but he tried not to show it, keeping on staring out the window. _Had we done something obvious?_ He scrunched his nose up.

"Yes. Did something happen?" Marco persisted, half-annoyed but also too curious to let it get to him. He wore a tight smile on his face while he waited for Jean to give up his act. 

"Nothing happened!" Jean lies through his teeth, pointing his chin up and looking away. It's a clear giveaway and Marco laughs, patting Jean on the back.

"Jean, what was it? I won't ask anymore if you're embarrassed, but yesterday with you two -it seemed real."

 _That’s because it is,_ Jean thinks, staring pointedly at the wall. Armin had quickly overtaken his life. His break had been full of Armin, blonde hair and soft kisses, cuddling while watching movies. Jean had felt shocked by how much he actually enjoyed cuddling. There was just something about being wrapped up in Armin’s scent, and having the blonde’s back against his chest or his head nestled under his chin that really made him happy. He would wear a goofy smile on his face but he could never make himself care enough to stop it.

And was there nothing wrong with Marco knowing that, Jean thought, considering. He sighed. _I guess there really isn’t._

"We... _may_ have kissed a little."

Marco snorted. " _Kissed a little?_ "

"Yeah, well…" Jean almost continues before imagining Armin's timidness towards all of this, and how he'll probably feel if Jean just goes on to let Marco know they had made out nearly everyday since their first real kiss. Jean sighed and turned to give Marco a pointed look. "It's not fair to Armin for me to just talk about it with you. It's our business."

Marco looks taken aback for a moment, but an astonished smile slides on his face. "...that's really considerate of you, Jean."

"Bite me." Marco chuckles, picking up his pencil to go back to his work.

“But you guys are really a thing now?”

“Yeah…” Jean nods, going back to leaning against his hand, his stomach feeling all too light and feathery and happy. “We are.”

When Jean finds out the next day that Armin’s sick he learns the blonde can be threatening. The text he wakes up to is half informing him that he doesn’t need to pick Armin up, and the other half is threatening no contact at all if he tries to come and see him. _Don’t make us both sick_ , is what he had ended the text with, leaving Jean partially annoyed, worried, and sad. It was the perfect clusterfuck to make him act out, he found. 

At lunch he nearly throttled Eren over something as dumb as a comment as _“You shouldn’t eat that, Jean, I’ve heard it’s bad for horses”_. The only thing stopping him from going after the brunette was Marco holding him back by the elbow and the fact that he knew in the back of his mind Armin wouldn’t be happy.

And the next day it wasn’t better; or the one after that, up until Friday when Jean felt his skin practically itching from not having seen Armin. The only silver lining throughout the week was that baseball practices had started, and he could let out some aggression there. Although his coach had complained that he could pull a muscle with how he’d been swinging. There wasn’t any practice on Friday, and Jean was tapping his fingers against the side of his legs as he walked to his car after school, feeling revved up with nothing to let the energy out. And then he saw Eren.

He was leaning against Jean’s car, his hands stuffed in his jacket, frowning at something in the distance. Just the sight of him made Jean tense up and groan. _Why do I have to deal with this?_

“What are you doing?” Jean called out, approaching. Eren turned to him, his expression softening from mild annoyance to downright indifference. _The fuck?_

“I need a ride home.”

“Uh, okay. Take the bus.” Jean gets to the drivers side of the car, and Eren turns, putting one arm up on the roof of the car.

“No.”

“Take the fucking bus!” Jean says, exasperated. But he doesn’t complain as Eren climbs into the passenger side. Jean starts his car, and as he drives he doesn’t even think about Eren being there, being completely distracted by other things. Like for instance -how sick is Armin that Jean can’t visit him, and why has he been sick for this whole week? 

“You’re talkative.” Eren says, sarcastic. Jean’s pulled from his thoughts and just grunts in response. “He’s not dying, you know. He’s just sick.”

“Whatever.”

“I guess it’s nice to see that under your prick act you actually do have feelings.”

Jean bites back a response, mulling over if he’ll snap back or not. The whole scenario was weird, Eren never wanted a car ride home alone with him. And reassuring him about Armin -was this some weird way of saying he was accepting of their relationship? They get to a red light and he laughs, patting his chest and looking over at Eren. “Of course I have feelings, _dumbass_!”

Eren smiles at the response, looking from Jean then out the window. “Cunt.”

They arrive at Eren’s house quick enough, and Jean pulls up to the curb, setting the car into park. “Get ou -”

“Come inside.” Jean’s taken aback by the interruption, and he raises a brow, looking over at Eren. Eren briefly glances at him, picking his backpack off the car floor.

“What, ordering me around now, Yeager?” He can’t tell if Eren’s joking or not, but when the brunette sighs and reaches to turn off his car for him all Jean can do is swat the other’s hand away and agree.

“Fine, fuck. What the hell’s wrong with you today?” Eren just rolls his eyes, climbing out of the car as Jean turns it off. He sits in it for a moment, taking in the weirdness of the situation, before stepping out and following Eren up to the front door. He unlocks it, and they move into the warm home.

“Is Mikasa home?” Jean wanders, tugging off his boots. _She’d make this more bearable._

“No, she’s staying over at Sasha’s tonight.” Eren pauses, setting his stuff down. “My parents aren’t home either today, in case you’re wondering.” Jean feels astounded by how civil Eren’s being, and he doesn’t reply while he takes off his coat and drops it on his boots. “Wait in the kitchen, I have something.”

Jean decides at this point to stop asking questions, and lets Eren wander off into his room. Jean goes to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he enters. It’s clean, save for two bowls in the sink, stacked with a mixture of soapy water and milk on the top one. Jean’s never been in Eren’s house alone with him before and he feels mildly apprehensive, scared to touch anything or act out. It feels wrong with just him being there.

Eren comes back, carrying a large and half empty bottle of liquor. _Hey, that’s -_

“Isn’t that mine?”

“Yep.” Eren replies, setting it on the counter before going to scour in a cupboard beside the fridge. A silence settles between them. _Well this is fucking awkward._

Eren pulls out two shot glasses from the top shelf, shooting Jean a glare when he begins to even offer helping him reach it. The glare strangely puts Jean more at ease, though, it being more akin to Eren’s usual behavior around him. He smiles and leans back against the counter as Eren pours the shots. He hands one to Jean without a word.

As soon as the shot hits Jean’s belly he can feel a fuzzy warmth hit his head and his arms. He takes it in as Eren takes his glass and pours them another shot each. Not a word is spoken between the two when Eren hands it back, the two downing the shots with equally uncomfortable shudders. Jean feels like his tongue is heavy in his mouth when he speaks. “Why are we doing this?”

“So it’s easier for us to deal with each other.” Eren replies, setting his glass down and crossing his arms. He leans against the counter across from Jean.

“Why are we dealing with each other?” Jean sets his glass down as well, noticing a pink has started overtaking Eren’s tanned neck. 

“Because Armin was gone all week.”

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Do you ask Armin all of these stupid fucking questions?" Eren snaps. Then he groans and pours them another shot each. Jean feels hesitant, holding it in his fingers and already feeling the alcohol flowing through him.

“I think I’m good for now.” Jean moves to set it down before Eren talks.

“Fucking weak-ass.” Jean pauses, irritation nearly causing him to spit out his own insults, but then he catches the grin growing on Eren’s face. And then he gets it.

“Fuck you.” A grin spreads on his face as well, _and why the fuck is Eren making me grin_ , and he downs the third shot.

Eren’s couch is comfortable. It’s leathery, which Jean isn’t really a fan of, but after wrestling Eren for the throw blanket it’s perfectly mushy and comfortable. The pair found a comfortable silence between them with the TV on, Eren insisting on watching Christmas movies even though it was over. Jean couldn’t argue when Eren claimed that Armin loved this one.

The liquor bottle sat on the floor in between them, their shot glasses beside it. They hadn’t taken another shot since the third, both new to alcohol, but it was safe to say that Jean was drunk. He was hanging out with Eren and not ripping his hair out for Christ’s sake. Eren’s voice slurs when he talks.

“Don’t you need to tell your parents you’re staying the night?” Eren had established earlier that he was staying here, and that attempting to drive home would get him duct taped to the toilet. Eren had claimed that he couldn’t handle Armin’s probable wrath over letting Jean drive home drunk. With the alcohol in him Jean easily accepted it.

“No,” Jean answers, not thinking of how weird that might sound. Eren scrunches up his nose, rolling onto his side to look at Jean.

“That’s fucking weird. People tell their parents.” Jean feels awkward, and he laughs, looking away from Eren’s face.

“I’ll text them.” He lies, pulling up his phone. He texts Armin without a thought.

“We should play a game.”

“What game?” Jean drops his phone onto the floor, only to pick it up a second later when his phone vibrates.

**You’re with Eren??**

“Truth or dare.” Eren slides onto the ground, beginning to pour them another shot each. Jean types back the best he can.

**Yea bab y, also i miss u**

“That’s a stupid fucking game.” Jean groans as he moves to sit on the ground. The blanket slides off one of his shoulders, and he frowns, although he doesn’t bother moving it. The alcohol is starting to form a heat on his skin anyways.

“Well what do you suggest?” Eren asks, spilling a few drops of liquor into the carpet. He rubs it in with his hand.

“I don’t know, I didn’t demand a ride home from my archenemy and then say we’re getting fucked up and having a sleepover.” Jean meant it as a joke, a grin on his face, but the glare Eren sends him makes his mouth close into a straight line.

“That’s what you think of us as? Fucking archenemys?” Eren basically shoves the shot glass into Jean’s hand, the liquid spilling onto his fingers.

“ _Fuck_ , Eren -”

“You’re so fucking irritating.” Eren downs his shot, dumping the glass on the ground before standing up, heading to his bedroom. He doesn’t slam the door but he might as well have with his exit. Jean feels guilt pool in his belly, and he downs his shot, the alcohol hot over the feeling. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he picks it up to see Armin’s reply.

**Are you drunk? Also, try not to fight, okay?**

Those words are enough to make Jean blubber, and he stands, wobbly in the legs as he heads to the bathroom. He’s rubbing his eyes as he passes Eren’s room, trying to not look too fucked up, but when he goes into the bathroom and locks the door his reflection tells him just how messed up he looks. His eyes are red and wet and his cheeks have lines where he tears had already fallen. _Why am I such an asshole?_

He moves from the mirror, stepping back to the wall and sliding down it and onto the tile, shivering from it even through his jeans. _Eren wanted to play games with me, to spend tonight with me, and be here for me and I upset him. Great._

The door kicks open suddenly, and Jean groans, rubbing at his face. “How the fuck -”

“I live here. We have keys on top of the door frames.” Eren doesn’t seem phased by Jean’s crying. He walks over, sliding down the wall beside him. “Why are you so upset?”

“It’s just the holidays.” Jean lies, waving his hands in the air. 

“Why though? And why has Armin being sick made you act like such a prick?”

“I don’t know, I just miss him.” Jean sighs, dropping his hands into his lap. “He’s been, like, everything these past few weeks, you know? He’s all I fucking think about. And, I guess, we’ve been spending a lot of time together and this week he’s just gone.”

“He’s not gone, he’s sick.”

“Fuck - _I know._ But it’s just different going to school without him, and not having him at lunch or in any classes. Doesn’t it bother you?” Jean talks with his hands, and Eren watches him, expressionless.

“Of course it does. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But it’s different for you -” Jean stops, shutting his mouth. _You have a family._

“Because I’m not in love with him.”

“Yes, exactly.” Jean nods, not fully processing what Eren had just said, only the fact that it was definitely not about him living alone with no parents or siblings or any family members at all.

“...so you are then?” Eren ventures, turning to look at Jean. _Huh?_ Jean cocks his head to the side, recalling what was said.

_“Because I’m not in love with him.”_

He feels his skin heat up, starting at the base of his neck and rising to his cheeks. Eren’s still looking at him, and he turns, facing the shower curtain. _Love, that’s a strong word,_ Jean thinks, _do I really love Armin?_

“...I really wasn’t listening when you asked that.” Jean finally says, trying to avoid answering. Because fuck if he knows when he’s drunk in a bathroom with Eren. 

“You asswipe.” Eren snorts, leaning his head back and looking ahead. Jean copies him, glad to not feel the brunette’s gaze on him anymore. Eren clears his throat, speaking. “So how did it happen between you two? Armin’s fucking terrified to tell me anything about it.”

 _Same,_ Jean thinks, _fucking same._

Jean feels that he has to pull a lie out of his own ass, and advice he had read online one time rang through his head -if you’re going to lie, at least make part of it the truth. So when did it really happen, Jean thinks, remembering their kiss at Armin’s Christmas party. It wasn’t then, but the weekend before, he realized, when Armin had told him he was going to buy him supplies to care of his forehead. He raises a hand to his forehead, touching the healing scar, thick and a bit scaly under his fingers. A smile slides onto his face.

“Something happened, he helped me out, and then he admitted he was doing it because he cared about me. So he confessed."

Eren doesn’t reply right away, and Jean looks over to see if the half-life was believable enough. Eren looks completely unimpressed and it makes Jean want to crawl out of his skin and disappear.

"Jean...someone saying they care about you isn't a confession." Eren’s looking at him like he’s the dumbest thing that he’s ever seen, and Jean furrows his brows, mildly offended.

"It was."

"I care about you." The statement causes Jean to guffaw, shocked. _What?_ "But I don't fucking like you."

"You're just saying that to prove a point, Eren.” 

"No, I'm not, jackass. I know you love and care about Armin and our friends. It's fucking obvious. You have this stupid tough guy act that everyone sees through. That's why Connie puts up with your shit and laughs, and Mikasa always works to make you feel included, and that's why I'm even talking to you right now. You're just not some fucking tough guy, you're like a teddy bear, or more like a wet napkin. Something in-between."

Jean is so taken aback he doesn't even know what to say. But tears begin to appear at his eyes and he laughs, hiding his face in his hands, feeling utterly ridiculous and emotional and drunk. His words are hoarse when he talks.

"If you tell anyone about this I'll kill you."

"Of course. If I did I wouldn't be your friend, I'd just be a jackass." Eren slings his arm around Jean, sighing as he pulls him close. Jean’s head falls against Eren’s chest, and he’s taken aback, finding it both unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He laughs again, feeling completely ridiculous, crying harder into his hands.

“I’m so fucking drunk.” Eren’s hand goes on his head, ruffling his hair.

“Shut up. Stop fucking crying, okay? I love you." 

Jean wakes up to the doorbell. It’s quiet, and it draws him out of sleep, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He’s laying on a bed, but as he looks at the ceiling he realizes it’s definitely not his room, and definitely not his bed. There’s a weight on his chest, and he raises his head, seeing that it’s a leg. His head turns, following the length of the leg to see that it connects to a sleeping Eren. He’s still in his jeans, and Jean stares at him, confused. _What the..._

There’s a knock on the door, and Jean turns to see it open, Mikasa peeking inside. “Jean, your ride is here.”

“My ride…?” She pushes the door open further, walking in with Armin in tow. There’s a smile toying on his face, but he bites it back, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth. He looks precious and sweet and it softens all of the confusion Jean’s feeling. _God, I missed you._

“You have to leave before Eren’s parents come home, you’re both obviously trashed.” Mikasa says, wearing the same amused expression as Armin. “Armin will take you home.”

“O...kay…” Jean starts to sit up, moving Eren’s leg off of him in the process. His leg drops unceremoniously on the bed, and Eren grunts, passed out. Jean thinks of last night, of Eren holding him, saying that he was his friend and he cared and _fuck_ -

Jean feels guilt for handling Eren so roughly, and he pats the other’s calf. “Sorry…”

Armin snorts from the doorway, and he looks over to see him covering his mouth with his hands, eyes glinting. “Come on, Jean.” He says, muffled just slightly by his hands. Jean nods, obeying. He feels like he’s not used to his body and he stumbles a little when standing, holding onto the wall for a moment as he regains composure. He rubs at his eyes, taking one last look at Eren before walking to Armin. Armin grins at him, taking his arm and leading him out of the room before Jean can try to kiss him. “Bye, Mikasa.”

“Bye, Mikasa.” Jean calls back, looking over his shoulder.

“Bye guys.” Mikasa replies, and Armin takes Jean to the front door, waiting for him to put his shoes on. Jean slips them on, not tying them, and then pulls his coat on.

“My keys -” Jean pulls them from his jacket pocket, and Armin takes them, still grinning. Jean sighs, smiling but tired. “What?”

“Did you have fun?” Armin asks, placing his hands on Jean’s face. He goes up on his toes, kissing Jean briefly before he can respond. The small kiss does things to Jean and he has to be tugged by Armin out of the house. “Come on.”

“Okay…” Jean says, smiling from the kiss. “Hey aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“I was basically fine yesterday, but there was a marathon on Discovery Channel that my mom wanted to watch, so I stayed home with her.” Armin explains, holding Jean’s hand as they walk to his car. 

“Naughty.” Jean grins, dropping Armin’s hand to hug the blonde’s waist. He only gets to kiss the blonde’s ear before Armin escapes, trotting down the yard to Jean’s car. Jean tries not to pout.

“We have to go, Jean. Eren’s parents will be home soon.” Armin shoots him a serious look over his shoulder, but he’s blushing, and that’s enough for Jean. The effect they have on each other is becoming Jean’s favorite thing.

They get in the car and Jean smiles, leaning over to Armin as he turns on the car. “Thank you.” He mumbles, kissing the blonde’s neck. Armin puts a hand on Jean’s chest, trying to push him away, but Jean just moves closer, nuzzling the blonde. “I missed you.”

"Jean...I missed you, too...but I have to drive…" He’s mumbling, and with a big huff and a glare at Jean, he finally manages to convince Jean to lean back into his seat and buckle up. The pair start down the road, and Jean leans back. He looks out the window and yawns. It’s early, with few cards on the road, and Armin drives just barely at the speed limit the entire time. It’s comfortable between them, quiet, but Jean frowns when he thinks of what Eren had said last night -that saying you care about someone isn’t confessing. Jean turns to Armin.

“When you said you cared about me in the parking lot of the arcade...that wasn’t you confessing, huh?” Jean asks, watching Armin.

“Um, well, yeah, it wasn’t.” Armin smiles, not looking away from the road. “I never really confessed.”

“But you felt it, right?” Jean doesn’t know why he’s asking this, with all that’s that happened. He doesn’t know why he’s worried that Armin didn’t feel it. But he can feel himself shaking, and maybe it’s the hangover, or how heavy it felt to wonder if he was in love with Armin, or maybe he’s just scared and feeling all of it together. But Armin smiles, glancing at him.

“I did and I still do.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN A WHILE!
> 
> Sorry for not updating for a while!!
> 
> ....buttttt I BROKE MY WRITER'S BLOCK! WOOOOOO
> 
> I've also had for months, like, I think before chapter 3 came out, had a scene in this chapter written out. And I guess I really struggled incorporating it because I was STUCK on it. And I still love it. I hope you guys do, too <3
> 
> Also there's a note at the end to read after you finish hehe

They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Jean found himself touching the blonde more throughout the day; finding any excuse to put a hand on the others back, snaking his arm around the other if they were standing around or walking the halls. It felt like it was barely enough. Just a look from Armin made him want to bite his nails and slam his head against his desk.

The worst part though was that Jean had practice now. They would sometimes go late, and Armin would bunker down at the nearby library, waiting for Jean to show up sweaty and with an unzipped winter coat. Jean would help him put up the books, and would carry his bag out to the car. It was only when they got inside that Jean would pull Armin to him with a hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him till they were out of breath. Armin was irresistible.

When they got to Jean's place, they'd put on a movie or the TV, sometimes doing their homework, most of the time wrapping themselves together. Jean would pepper kisses around his neck and his chest, and the blonde would moan and whimper if he stopped to suck or nip. Jean felt a need to draw those noises out of Armin, and Armin felt perfectly content giving them to him. They never slept, although at times Armin would find Jean dozing, and he always left before Jean’s dad came home. Armin was good about that. Armin didn’t mess that up.

When Armin opened his eyes he knew he had definitely messed that up.

The TV was a low grumble, flashing lights on dark ceilings and couch, and Armin blinked sleepily while trying to see more than just that. Save for the TV it was  _ dark,  _ and sideways, Armin realized as he pushed himself up from Jean’s chest. The other was still asleep, laid out on the couch with his right leg off. Armin found himself between the sofa and Jean, and he awkwardly clambered off, Jean not waking in the process.  _ What time is it? _

Armin felt for his phone in his pocket, pulling it out to find a black screen. Dead.

_ Not good, _ Armin realized,  _ this isn’t good! _

“Jean, hey, Jean -” Armin shook the other, a feeling of dread beginning to sit heavy in his stomach.

“Armin?” Jean’s voice was gravely and confused, his eyes blinking slow at Armin. He still looked half asleep.

“We fell asleep.”

“Wha?”

“We fell asleep…!” Armin groaned, leaving Jean on the couch to head into the kitchen, checking the time on the microwave. 3:21 AM. “Oh my God.”

“What? What is it?” Armin turned to see Jean had risen, and was for some unknown reason choosing to climb over the sofa rather than walk around it. Armin stared at him dumbly in the dark.

“It’s 3 AM, Jean. I -I need to go home, call my parents!” Armin flipped on the kitchen light while heading into the living room, glancing from Jean who was just standing by the sofa, seemingly unphased, to the TV that was displaying an ad for some special baking pan. 

“I’ll give you a ride.” Jean said, Armin noting mentally that that was obvious.  _ Jean’s still waking up, _ Armin sighs, collecting his stuff from the living room. He turns the TV off in the process before rounding the sofa to his shoes. He plops down to start putting them on.

"I'm surprised your dad didn't wake us up."

Armin says it without thinking, but as he's tying his shoes he becomes aware of how still the house feels. His hands pause and he looks up, noting that there aren't any more pairs of shoes by the door or any more keys in the bowl, and that they probably would have woken up from the door opening and closing, especially the garage. He looks over at Jean to see the other looking like he wants to puke or cry or both, and it’s such a difference from how he looked moments ago, how he’s ever looked at Armin at all, that something breaks in Armin.

"He doesn't really, um, live here." Jean fiddles with his fingers, keeping his eyes on Armin, looking for judgement. "They've both remarried. It's my dad's house, technically. But he wants to be with his new family. He really only stops by to get me groceries." He talks fast, and by the end of it he seems out of breath, panicky.

Armin feels like he's been punched in the gut. "Jean..." Jean shakes his head at his name, forcing a smile.

"It's alright. It's just normal now."

"Jean…" Armin stands up, walking over to Jean. He's sitting on the back of the sofa, his hands folded together in front of him, one of his legs bouncing. He shakes his head again as Armin approaches, stopping only when the other laces his fingers through his hair. Jean's forehead falls against Armin's chest, and he takes a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around Armin. Jean presses his face into the other's shirt, breathing him in. Armin pets his head.

“Dun’ go t’night…” The words are muffled, but they’re enough to be heard by Armin. He wraps his arms around Jean’s neck, considering this. His parents are probably fuming by now or scared or both, with his phone being dead and him not being home by 3 am. But maybe they had called Eren or Mikasa, who know he’s been with Jean, and they could have deferred them to him. But if that was the case, Jean hadn’t mentioned it. Armin looks down at him. His hair is loose and soft, strands pressed upward against Armin’s chest. In a painful clarity Armin realized that this was the most open Jean had been with him and their friends.

“...I need to borrow a charger, to call my parents. But I’ll stay.” He feels a hot breath through his shirt; a sigh of relief. When Jean looks up at him and stands, Armin chooses to ignore the wetness in the others eyes, instead focusing fully on how sweetly Jean kisses him. It’s gentle and chaste, and it’s the first time he thinks that Jean might be in love with him.

It’s Armin’s father that answers the phone. "Hello?" His voice is tired and thick with sleep, and Armin's taken aback, checking his screen to see that he's called the right number.

"Dad?"

"Armin, why are you calling?... I'm just down the hall." Armin doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or unimportant that his family didn’t realize he wasn’t home, but he decides to brush it off for the sake of the situation.  _ And besides,  _ Armin thinks,  _ this is nothing compared to Jean’s whole situation. _

He hesitates for a moment, glancing over at Jean. They’ve moved up to his room, and the other is taking off his shirt, his pants already discarded on the floor, baby blue boxers hanging loose on his hips. His skin is tanned and smooth over muscles Armin didn’t know he was attracted to. The sight makes Armin gulp before replying. “I’m actually at a friends house...”  _ Just a friends house, not Jean’s, _ Armin thinks, opting to look away from Jean _.  _ “...we were watching TV and fell asleep. Since it’s late I’m just going to stay here, though, is that okay? It seems like the safest option with it being so late.”

His dad snorts on the other line, and Armin can hear sheets rustle as he moves. “We trust you, Armin. Just don’t be late for school tomorrow.” 

Armin nods, feeling slightly dizzy from the soft words from his father. “Thanks, dad. Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

Armin hangs up his phone, setting his alarms before placing it on the floor. He hears the bed creak behind him and he turns, seeing Jean sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and Armin feels taken aback by his boxer-clad body only to have the feeling stunted by the puppy dog eyes he’s giving Armin.  _ He’s precious. _

“I can stay, no worries.” Armin says, rising to his feet. Jean smiles, reaching out and pulling Armin to him. Armin just barely wraps his arms around the other before he's manhandled on top of Jean.

"Goodnight," Jean sighs, holding Armin against his chest, and Armin knows he's joking, that he isn't serious about them sleeping like that, but he feels off kilter from being on top of the other. Armin pulls his head up, eying Jean's pleased face, his eyes closed. Armin feels like his whole body has gone hot.

"Jean…" He wiggles, pressing his hands down on Jean's pecks -God,  _ pecks _ .

"Mmm?" 

Armin couldn’t reply before his body did, and the blush that spread onto his cheeks was quickly deepened in color as Jean smirked at him.  _ Of course he can feel it...! _

Jean opened his eyes, matching Armin’s gaze before flipping them over, catching himself so as to not put all his weight on Armin. Strands of his hair had fallen and grazed Armin’s cheeks, and the two stayed suspended for a moment before meeting in a shameless kiss. It started off wet and strong and enthusiastic, Armin wrapping his arms around Jean’s neck, pulling him as close as he could come. But the kissing slowed down, the pair moving in sync. It felt like they had all the time in the world.

Armin had half a mind to wonder if it was wrong for him and Jean to be making out after what had been revealed, the emotions still raw and sensitive to touch. But those thoughts didn't seem to be in Jean's head at all, the other looking fogged over and smiley when he'd pull back, rubbing Armin's cheek with his thumb. The look gnawed at Armin, and he'd kiss Jean quickly to hide the twist in his belly. It wasn’t time to think about that. Definitely not when Armin felt the imminent loss of his virginity. Or maybe it was the perfect time to think of that, Armin wondered, to understand fully what was happening, what they were proclaiming, communicating to one another. But maybe for now the physical discourse was enough.

Armin's shirt was pulled over his head, and he felt the cold air ghost over his skin before Jean pressed his mouth onto his belly, kissing it. The warmth made him shiver, slipping his fingers into Jean's hair and gently tugging at it. Jean groaned against his skin, and Armin arched his back as Jean’s mouth moved up his chest and to his neck. Armin was so distracted by the soft kisses that he barely noticed Jean moving his legs apart, settling in between them. And then Jean pressed against Armin. It made him whine, the sound plucked from him by Jean, and his whole body turned into putty. Any reservations he had before were gone as he tugged Jean’s face to his, kissing him harsh and needy because he wanted Jean. He fucking _needed_ him.

“Jean, this is…” Armin takes a breath, gripping at Jean’s shoulders. “So…” His voice trailed off, quiet and chipped from nervousness, and Armin moved his hand down Jean’s chest.

“So ‘what’…?” Jean’s voice drifts close to his ear, a deep purr that’s followed by lips on Armin’s earlobe. Armin pulsates from the touch, weakly jutting upwards at the others hips. Jean reciprocates immediately, pressing down against the other, and the pair groans together. “What do you want, Armin?”

“You -” The word had barely left his mouth before it was enveloped by Jean’s.

Three AM moved loosely into four, and by the time they finished Armin was a sleepy, sweaty mess. Jean’s window had a small crack in the corner, and a thin icy breeze worked itself inside to cool his skin. Armin falls asleep to Jean planting soft kisses on his shoulder, his head hazy with sex and affection.

He wakes up when the sun is just barely up. Jean’s room is covered in blue and quiet, and for a sleep heavy moment Armin feels like he’s in a fish tank. But then he blinks, attempting to roll onto his back before bumping into Jean’s chest. He finds his arm is bare against Jean, whose eyes are still caked closed with sleep, and he slowly realizes that his knee is bare against the other and his hip is skin to skin with Jean’s flaccid dick.  _ Oh,  _ Armin thinks, remembering last night. 

He remembers it again when he stands, and later when he washes his backside in the shower. By the time he’s done showering Jean has woken up and is combing his closet for something Armin can wear. Armin feels strangely comfortable as he drops his towel and changes into the underwear and jeans he wore the day before. Not the most sanitary, he figures, but it’ll do.

“Here -this one’s from 8th grade.” Jean tosses him a shirt, and as he turns around to scour for something he should wear, Armin holds the shirt at arm length, eying it. It’s a shirt with their middle school mascot printed on it, and just from there Armin can smell what was probably countless workouts or practices that seeped into it.

“Anything, um, newer?” Armin folds it, placing it on Jean’s bed as the other turns around. He’s pulling a black t-shirt over his head, his abs all too present and flexing in the process.

“They’ll be too big, but…” Jean shrugs before gesturing to his closet, and hesitantly Armin walks over. As soon as he’s close enough Jean’s wrapped around him and pressed against his back, drawing circles on Armin’s belly as he goes through what’s available. It’s about 9 shirts in total, and as Armin looks through them he can remember Jean in every one of them, several of them recently. Had he always been wearing the same shirts? “It’s not a lot.”

Jean’s murmur breaks Armin out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head in response, not wanting Jean to feel any shame like he wore last night. “It’s fine -thank you again.” Armin reaches a hand up, raking his fingers through Jean’s hair. The other makes a small noise from the touch. “What do you think I should wear?”

“The green one.” Jean answers without hesitation, and Armin quirks a brow while reaching for it only to instantly roll his eyes at what it is. Armin snorts.

“Do you want everyone to know that we slept together?”

“I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

On the back of the shirt in a large bold font is the number ‘2’, Jean’s number as catcher on the team, with his last name ‘Kirstein’ on top and their school name on the bottom.

“I am not wearing this.” Armin says definitely, putting it back on the rack. Jean sighs, it hitting the tip of Armin’s ear and he shivers, pressing back against the other.

“I’ve always wanted my partner to wear it...” Jean’s voice is husky and it presses against his ear, Jean’s mouth hot and biting at his earlobe. When he speaks again Armin already knows he’s lost. “Please?”

It takes less than a minute for their friends to realize something’s up.

As soon as Armin slips off his coat, hanging it on the back of his cafeteria chair, Eren is staring at him and Sasha’s circled around to check out the back of his shirt.

“Armin…” Eren started, staring at it. “Isn’t that shirt a little… _ big  _ for you?”

Sasha covered her face in her hands. “Oh my God!”

“Wait -”

The damage had been done. Sasha laughed, Eren turned red, and Armin had to grip onto the arm Connie wrapped around his neck so as to not fall.

“Guys, please -”

“Armin lost it before Eren did! Armin lost it before Eren did!” Connie sang in a hushed whisper, grinning evilly at Eren who proceeded to stand and knock him on the head. Armin ducked against Connie’s arm as he kept a vice grip around the blonde while having it out with Eren. Sasha’s grinning face appeared in front of Armin.

“Did it hurt?”

“Sasha...shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's no explicit sex, but I wanted to keep it separate from this fic. This fic is very personal to me and I just don't want sex to be a focal point at all, BUT I will be writing out the explicit sex and making it a stand-alone fic in this series. So please look forward to that <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter *sniff* and then i'm rewriting this bad boy!!
> 
> Hope y'all all had a Merry Christmas ^^

Jean doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that’s he having the crap kicked out of him.

It hurts, enough that his body tightens up and seizes when he hits the concrete. Against the beat of his heart in his ears he can hear Eren grunting somewhere near him, and he tries to figure out if the other is winning before he’s gruffly picked up by his collar and punched back towards the ground. The guy takes a step back and watches Jean swipe his tongue over his now busted lip. 

Eren had started the fight. Jean remembers him throwing the first punch, clad in his dirty gym clothes, and the reverberating smack of the guys head against the locker. Everyone present in the locker room, clothed or not, had quickly ducked away from Eren as another guy came up to help his friend. And Jean had sprung right in.

He had done it thinking he could protect, or at least  _ help _ Eren, but he’s realized by now that the most he’ll do to help is be their opponents second punching bag. He takes another hit to the gut and a jab at his ear that sends it ringing before the guy is pulled off of him. There’s a heaviness with the pain, and Jean blinks at the candescent lighting above him, staying laying on the ground. His body is a mix of pain and lead. 

“Kirschtein!” The head of his coach swoops into his vision, face dark from the light outlining his head and shoulders, anger present from the top of his bald head to the tip of his goatee.  _ Can goatees be angry?  _ “You going to lay there all day?! Get up, you’re the catcher! Or are you not tough enough to be?!”

Jean bites back on a reply, sitting up with swallowed notions of pain. Coach Shadis was a known hardass, and Jean didn’t want to peeve him off anymore. Jean holds his head in his hands, jaw and cheek throbbing, and wants to puke at the thought of doing extra laps later.  _ Fuck that. _

A hand is placed in front of Jean, and he looks up from it to see Eren’s mouth and nose caked in red, his eyes looking hotty and screaming at Jean to get up. “You dumbass.” Jean mumbles, taking the others hand and getting yanked off the ground. With a quick look around he finds that their onlookers had dispersed, and besides Eren Shadis was left telling off the pair they had fought. Or, on second thought, the pair they had in actuality given themselves to for punching practice. When Shadis sends the boys off to the principal’s office and turns to them, Jean knows what’s coming.

“What started this? Was it you, Yeager?” Eren nods reluctantly.

“Yes.”

“How many fights are you gunna start this year? Do you think because your parents are doctors you don’t have to pay any medical bills? And after all this you still get that covered in your own blood?” Shadis’s voice isn’t yelling, but with the venomous tint to it it might as well be. Jean braces his gut when Shadis turns to him, as if expecting an actual blow. “And you, Kirschtein! We have games coming up, do you want to step down from catcher? Is that what this incident is saying to me?”

“No, sir.” Jean replies, automatically standing up straighter. “I was just protecting a friend.”

Shadis stares at him blankly before raising a finger to point at Eren. “ _ Friend? _ ”

“Uh...yes, sir.”

“Is this not the same Eren Yeager that you fought after he tried out for the team all those years ago?” 

“It is, sir.” Jean replied, meek, that memory a million miles away from him. 

“And laying on the ground getting punched was protecting him? Pathetic, Kirstchtein.” Shadis sounded like how he did when he chewed out the underclassmen, but Jean didn’t find him to be truly angry. There was still a bite in his voice, but Jean felt that Shadis was more taken aback than angry, his sunken eyes not seeming too shaded. His friendship with Eren had surprised him. “Your classmates are visiting the principal right now, so go wait outside of his office for your turn. I suspect suspensions will be handed out. Oh, and don’t forget your shit.”

“Yes, sir.” Eren and Jean said in unison, collecting their bags, Eren stuffing his regular clothes into his as they shuffled out of the locker room. When the door shut behind them Jean shot Eren a grin, feeling happy for no good reason. Eren looked over, Jean successfully catching his attention. Eren furrowed his brows together. “What?”

“We fucking lost.” Jean snorted, laughing quietly. Eren glared at him.

“Where’s your bitchy attitude? Did you get hit too hard?”

“Probably.” Jean gave Eren a shit eating grin, wincing in the process. Eren’s glare softened slightly, and he looked forward as they walked through the gym.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Eren mumbled.

“I know…” Jean smiled to himself, looking down at the ground. “But there was this drunk bastard I spoke to once, and he mentioned something about doing things to be a friend, and not a jackass. I felt I should take the advice.”

Principal Zachary was unconventional. Jean had found him surprisingly lenient throughout the years, and when he invited Eren and Jean inside he greeted them with a big smile and just the slightest hint of displeasure in his eyes. In the four years Eren and Jean had been there they had grown more than acquainted with him.

“Suspensions to the both of you.” He said after they sat down, shuffling through the filing cabinet by his desk for their records. “As expected.”

Jean nods, rubbing at his sore jaw. Suspensions weren’t good, but he was graduating soon anyways, he figured. And it’s not like his dad would do more than shoot him an angry text. That’s all he had ever done before in the discipline department.

“Fighting is bad and whatnot.” Zachary said, settling into his chair with a sigh. He laid their records out before them. “I don’t think I even need to look in these, but it certainly looks the part, right?”

Jean and Eren don’t respond, and out of the corner of his eye Jean can see Eren picking at his cuticles. Zachary watches him until Eren looks up, nodding.

“Yes, sir.”

Zachary seems pleased by the acknowledgement, and he folds his hands together, smiling. “I’ll give you five days each, or three if you promise to not come in here again before graduation. Parents will start asking you not to walk if you beat up their kids this late in the school year.”

“Yes, sir.” Eren and Jean respond in unison.  _ Although it’s more like we were the ones getting beat up, _ Jean thinks, noting the still present throb in his face.

“Three it is then!” Zachary writes it down on two sticky notes, placing them each on the manilla folders in front of him. “Eren, are your parents working right now?”

“Yeah,” Eren sits up in his seat. “They both have double day shifts right now.”

“Mmm.” Zachary nods, looking up at Jean. “And you, Jean? Is your father working?”

“Yeah, I guess, it is a weekday…” Zachary stares at him for a moment and then laughs, nodding his head.  _ Like I have any idea what he’s doing. _

“It is, true. We’ll call him about coming to get you. And Eren,” His gaze shifts to the brown-haired teen. “If your parents are comfortable with it and Mr. Kirschtein says it’s okay, I’m okay with you hitching a ride with them.”

“Ah, that’s fine.”

Jean sits forward, the other’s turning to look at him. “Actually, um, my car’s here, and he probably won’t want me to leave it here. I could take Eren home, though.”

“We’ll see what he wants to do.” Zachary says, pressing a button on his phone, speaking to the receptionist. “Please contact Kirschtein’s father, see if he wants to come get him or not.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There’s an awkward silence while they wait, Zachary smiling at the pair all the while.  _ What a fucking weirdo, _ Jean thinks, keeping still in his seat so as to not attract the old man’s attention. In the seat besides him Eren shifts every few seconds or so, though, forever restless. After a good five minutes the receptionist chimes in. Her voice has lost the chipperness it held before, now sounding flat, drained.

“Mr. Kirschtein will be here in an hour, sir.”

Jean’s father arrived at the hour.

It had been gruelling leading up to his arrival, and Jean had asked to go to the bathroom unsuccessfully several times. There was a sense of panic coiling inside of him, and he wanted to do something, anything to get that tension out. Even if it was just going to the bathroom and splashing water on his face, getting the blood off, or sitting alone in a stall for a few minutes. Eren was sitting beside him, his presence a source of anxiety now as well. He didn’t want an audience, let alone  _ Eren, _ someone he knew, seeing him interact with his father.

“Stop tapping your leg…!” Eren snapped at him, the pair whipping their heads at each other from the quiet outburst. “It’s making my chair move.” 

“Fuck off.” Jean muttered weakly, turning away from Eren right as his dad came in through the front doors of the school. From the glass-walled front office Jean watched him come in with wide eyes and a pit in his belly.  _ Here it comes. _

“Who’s that?” Eren asked, voice distant from Jean as his dad made eye contact with him. His glare was like ice. “Is that your dad?”

“Shut up…!” Jean hissed.

He hadn’t seen his dad in weeks. The last time he’d seen him was when he had first gotten punched in December, with the subsequent grocery deliveries ranging from them being left in the garage for when Jean got home to two twenty dollar bills being left on the kitchen island. They were clear indicators that his job as his dad was soon to be done. Jean’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and then he’d be 18 years old, and whenever he graduated he knew he had to get out of that house. He figured his dad letting him stay there until he finished high school was his last act as a father.

Jean straightened up in his seat as his dad greeted the receptionist.

“Hi, just here for one delinquent teenager.” His dad chuckled as he said it, but from the look he shot Jean as the receptionist prepared the sign-out sheet, it was obvious he was anything but happy. 

“Mr. Kirstein, it so happens that Eren’s parents are currently working shifts at the hospital, but they said it would be acceptable if you were able to give him a ride home -”

“This kid?” Jean’s dad turns to look at Eren, jutting his chin in his direction. “Jean doesn’t even know him. Now come on, let’s go.”

Jean turns quickly to Eren, seeing beyond the blood and now-forming bruises an icy shock. They stare at each other, and beyond it Jean can hear the front desk lady apologize, and his dad grumble about the weather, and Jean can just mouth the word ‘sorry’.

“My car’s here, dad. I can drive myself home.”

They’re walking down the steps that lead up to the front entrance, with Jean’s dad a good stride or two in front of him. He hadn’t said a word since they had left the office, and Jean hoped his dad didn’t want to say anything. But just like his dad choosing to come to the school at all, Jean was left surprised.

“No, you won’t. You can get your car tomorrow after you take the bus to school.”

“...the bus?” His dad stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to Jean who had paused just a few steps above him. Jean felt his body tighten at his dad's expression, the brows furrowed and eyes pointed, disappointment braided with anger in every inch of his face. A lump formed in Jean’s throat.

"I mean honestly, Jean, you have baseball! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Baseball.

_ Baseball,  _ Jean looked at him, incredulous,  _ fucking baseball?! _

"Baseball? You're mentioning _that?_ ” A sickening anger had crawled in Jean, one that made him want to spout fire and retch out all of his insides. Jean couldn’t believe him, that baseball’s what he cared about right now, when Jean knew he had blood on his nose and chin and lips. He had the shit beaten out of him and this is what he cared about? Jean’s voice came out raspy and loud. “You don't even go to my games!"

"I'm busy, Jean!” His dad snapped back, yelling loud, probably enough to make Principal Zachary peak out from his blinds. Jean felt intensely exposed. “Do you think I don't support you? Because I support you! I came here to get you for Christ's sake! Do you know how far my work is from this place?"

"Why did you come to get me? Because of baseball? Because the school asked you? It definitely wasn’t for me!” Jean paused, hot in the face, and laughed. Tears were watering his vision. “And no, I don't know how far your work is! But it's obviously far! You don't even fucking live with me!" 

"Is that what you're mad about? Is that what's making you act out like this?" His dad isn’t yelling anymore, his voice a threatening whisper. He's glancing off to the side and Jean wipes at the tears, turning to see Connie and Sasha poorly hidden between a sedan and a truck, fast food bags in hand.

" _ FUCK! _ " Jean yells after turning from the pair, beginning to head to his car.

"Jean, I swear to God -"

"Go back to work!" Jean yells hotly. He takes his car keys out of his coat pocket when far enough down the rows, unlocking his shitty car. He gets in, taking a shuddering breath before looking up to see no one following him. He places his hands on the steering wheel and shakes it, angry and dejected. "Fuck fuck FUCK!" 

His hand slams on the horn, a quick 'beep' interrupting his ragged breathing. Before he can slam it again he makes himself wipe at his eyes and his cheeks, and in better consciousness to not hit his horn again he inserts the key in the ignition. The ride is a blurr, Jean’s mind soaked deep in the fight with his dad. He can still feel his glare on him, how Jean’s voice rasped and yelled, and  _ fuck he had really yelled at his dad. _ He doesn’t remember parking when he’s inside the house, and he moves a kitchen chair to wedge under the garage doorknob before deciding against it. He felt scared and shaky, and his breath was watery and choked, sobs wracking his body as he locked himself in his room.

It had been so long since a breakdown, and Jean felt it was weirdly foreign to him. But maybe this one was different, he thought, pulling his comforter over his body and head. He had talked back. He had gotten caught by Connie and Sasha. His shame that he had hidden for years was now laid out in front of those around him.

The first doorbell ring is accompanied by Marco calling him. It was much later, afternoon’s golden sunlight falling on Jean’s face as he laid in bed. He felt spent and lifeless, and he canceled the second call before it had a chance to finish its first ring. He had been fending off texts throughout the day, swiping them away before he read the contents. But he’d see their names: Sasha, Eren, Marco, Connie, Mikasa, Armin.

Armin had been the first to text him, and the string of text that followed was the only one Jean had responded to.

**At home fine. Going to take a nap.**

With the paragraph Armin had responded to that with Jean knew he didn’t buy it, but the onslaught of texts halted until the others seemed to gain the confidence to say something. Jean felt annoyed and stupid, not wanting to know what any of them were saying or thinking, not wanting to ever speak to them again. He felt sick with shame, and when the doorbell rang again and Connie’s name popped up on his phone, calling him, Jean groaned and threw his phone across the room.

When it was dark and he had finally gotten up to piss his ringer went off again, muffled by the pile of clothes it sat in. Jean would have ignored it, really badly wanted to, but it was Armin’s name this time and his heart hurt when he thought of how he had ignored his previous texts.  _ I really am such an asshole, _ Jean thought, picking up the phone. He sighed and answered.

“Hi, Ar -”

“Jean!” Armin sounded shocked, and Jean’s guilt only thickened. “Jean, I’m glad you answered. Are you okay?”

“Just dandy.” Jean replies, his voice flat. Armin hesitates before speaking again.

"Sasha and Connie saw you -"

"I know." Jean cuts him off.  _ I don’t want to think about that. _

Armin seems to catch onto how he’s feeling, switching the topic immediately. “Do you want to come stay here for the night?”

“I shouldn’t. If my dad comes home I’ll be in trouble.” Jean knows he’s deflecting. He can feel it in his bones, his hands still on the wheel in his car, waiting for his dad to follow him. He’s never going to, he’s never going to care enough to go after Jean. But saying that is too difficult. Just the thought of saying that makes Jean’s mouth go dry, the panic coming back in shallow waves. Jean steadies himself by sitting on his bed, roughly wiping at the onslaught of tears.

“...but, Jean, you said your dad didn’t live there anymore.” Armin’s talking in a more hushed voice now, but his words sting all the same. “And my parents are fine with it, we have a guest room -”

“Did you tell them?” Jean interrupts, voice unnerved and shaky.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why would they let me stay?”

“I told them we have homework and tests to study for, and we do, by the way.” Jean doesn’t reply, feeling sick to his stomach all of a sudden. Homework and tests seemed so infinitely far away. “Jean? Are you okay?”

“I can’t go over, Armin.” He settles on saying, wanting to end the phone call quickly. “I have to go. Homework and stuff.”

Armin’s silent on the other line for a moment, and Jean gnaws at his lower lip, knowing he’s hurt the blonde’s feelings. “...I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jean.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter ahhhh!!!! Long notes at the end. If you don't want to read all of them just know I want to thank all of you readers <3

The next day Jean wakes up to his doorbell ringing.

It jolts him awake, and by the second ring Jean’s rolled out of bed and is heading down for the door. He had fallen asleep in the clothes he wore yesterday, and Jean yawns and straightens out his shirt as he goes down the stairs. He's half-awake, and thinks there's no possible way his friends had come this early in the morning. They had school, and Jean expects to see a neighbor when he opens the door, halting immediately though at the sight of Armin.

“Oh, Armin…” Armin is gnawing on his bottom lip and staring at Jean, his backpack hung over one shoulder. Jean bites back the guilt of their last phone call, and looks from Armin to a car parked out front, Armin’s grandfather sitting in the front seat. He waves at Jean and Jean confusingly waves back.

“I brought supplies to clean you up.” Jean's gaze shifts back to Armin, but Armin's already turned around, waving at his grandfather. His grandfather begins to drive away.

"I'm okay, Armin -" Armin ignores him, beginning to walk inside. Jean presses back against the front door to let him pass. "Armin, I'm suspended…"

"I know, Eren is as well."

"You already missed so much school." Jean argues weakly, shutting the front door and following Armin into the kitchen. Armin sets down his bag on the kitchen table, taking everything out one by one. He doesn't acknowledge Jean's criticism, though, and Jean hovers awkwardly nearby. "...Armin?"

"Sit down." Jean doesn't move for a moment, but when the blonde shoots him a glare he feels a pain in his chest, and he moves to sit in the chair nearest Armin. Armin pulls out a cotton ball, dousing it in hydrogen peroxide before taking Jean's jaw in a vice grip. "It's going to hurt."

Armin gets to work at cleaning up the wounds on Jean's face and his lip, pausing at Jean's winces and blowing at where it stings. Jean keeps his gaze off of the other's face, but he can feel the heavy gaze directed at him, the tension between them new and uncomfortable. It's scary, and Jean knows that he caused it. He fucked it up yesterday ignoring him, and he fucked it up more by being an ass on the phone. And Armin was the most important thing Jean's had these past few months he's realizing, the devastation of possibly losing him now at his forefront. Jean shuts his eyes, biting back tears.  _ How did everything go so wrong in just a day? _

Eventually Armin finishes, cupping one of Jean's cheeks for a moment before heading over to the sink. Jean sighs, leaning over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He can feel the bandages on his face, and can hear the water from the sink, and Jean wants to fall into the floor and disappear into it. He was spent. 

The water hisses shut, and there's the sound of a paper towel ripping while Armin dries his hands. Finally Armin speaks.

"Everyone's worried about you, Jean."

"I'm fine." He says automatically, listening to Armin's footsteps approaching him. He keeps his face in his hands.

"You keep saying that, but you obviously aren't. I should've guessed it before when your wound got infected." Jean jolts slightly when Armin puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing at it. The touch is so sweet Jean has to clench his jaw to keep from crying. "I worry about you, and so does Eren, Mikasa, Marco, Connie, Sasha... we're your friends."

Jean bites back on replying, but he leans back in his chair, looking up at Armin. He's just beside Jean, and the way he's looking at Jean is tender, soft and half-lidded blue eyes being Jean's favorite thing in the world. He takes a moment to admire them before replying. "What does that mean if my family isn't there for me?" He pauses before continuing. "They're  _ family. _ They have to be here and they're not. Why would friends be any better?"

"Oh, Jean…" Armin looks incredibly sad and Jean starts apologizing under his breath, looking away. Armin hugs him around his neck and Jean clutches at the others shirt, pulling him onto his lap. The motion is fluid and so familiar, effortless, and Jean presses his face into the crook of Armin's neck as he clutches to him. They hold each other, silent, and Jean feels like a total ass for yesterday. He could have had this.

"I'm sorry." Jean says, louder than before, and Armin shakes his head.

"Jean, you're okay. You're okay."

Jean feels infinitely far away from 'okay', but he sighs against Armin’s neck, relieved that he at least hasn’t lost him. He pulls back, catching Armin’s mouth with his and kissing him. When they pull apart he leans back against the chair, arms loose around Armin’s waist, and Armin brushes his hair back and behind his ears.

"Sasha and Connie were really worried yesterday,” Armin hesitates, voice quiet. Jean watches him, any panic at what he’s saying stuffed out by Armin’s hands in his hair, and the blonde seems to understand that, continuing. “But on top of that they felt really bad. I mean besides you telling me, none of us had any idea. Not even Marco."

"It's embarrassing." Jean says.  _ Fucking shameful. _

“It’s not.” Armin’s brows furrow together. “We care about you, Jean. Please let us see you, and be there for you.”

“My parents don’t love me.” Jean replies, the words heavy on his tongue. Armin looks close to tears from the words, and Jean wants to comfort him, do something more than just hold him but Armin speaks first.

“...I love you.” Armin says it meekly, red in the cheeks. Jean is stunned, fluttery in the chest, and his mouth hangs open in shock. Armin smiles at him, coy. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s convenient, I do. I love you.”

“Armin…” Jean starts, weak, smiling. Armin grins and kisses his nose.

“I love you.” He kisses his cheeks, at the tears that pool out of Jean’s eyes and slide down his cheeks and to his chin. “I love you so much…”

“Armin,” Jean smiles, feeling light. He laughs under the onslaught of kisses from the blonde. “I love you, too.”

“...I know.” Armin pulls back, grinning at Jean. There’s a glint to his eyes, tears and happiness and a hint of cheekiness, and Jean doesn’t even question it, kissing him sweet and long.

A round on the couch and a shared shower later and Jean and Armin are on their way to a breakfast diner, per Armin’s request. The cheekiness was still there in his face, and Jean didn’t have an answer to it yet, not that he cared. The streets were relatively empty, it being early morning on a weekday. The drive was easy and all of the anxiety Jean had felt the day before and this morning had washed off him.

When the diner is just ahead Armin snorts, and Jean looks from Armin to the diner’s parking lot, a group huddled by the front door and what is unmistakably Sasha’s car.

“Armin…” Jean says, understanding  _ why _ Armin had been acting so cheeky.  _ You pretty little shit. _

“Just go with it.” Armin grins at him, kissing his knuckles, and Jean pulls into the lot. He parks next to the group and they step out. There’s everyone there: Sasha, Connie, Marco, Mikasa, Eren. Jean’s door clips shut, and he’s looking from face to face when Mikasa steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. 

“Um,” Jean mumbles, wrapping an arm around her waist. “What is going on?”

“Breakfast.” She replies, pulling back, Marco taking her place instantly.

“What is happening?” Jean questions again, barely wrapping his arm around the other until he pulls back, Sasha rushing into his chest. “ _ Guys! _ ”

“What Mikasa said, breakfast.” Eren says, turning to head for the door. The others follow, Sasha pulling back to tug Jean by the arm. Jean looks over at Armin who’s grinning, pink in the cheeks, and Jean’s shocked expression puddles.  _ He loves me. _

By the time Jean is pulled inside Eren has already requested a u-shaped booth at the far end of the diner, and the group follows the waiter like ducklings with their mom. They file into the booth, Sasha and Connie on one side, Eren and Mikasa to the right of them, and Marco sits between Mikasa and Jean, Armin on the end. Armin pulls Jean’s hand into his lap as soon as he slides in, holding it with both his hands while they list off their drink orders to the waiter. When she leaves a silence follows, and Jean looks among his friend’s faces to see who wants to speak first, stopping on a particularly shameful looking Connie.

“So what is this?” Jean asks, Armin squeezing his hand in response. Connie looks dumbfounded.

“Uhmm,”

“Jean…!” Eren hisses out, shaking his head. He’s red in the face. “Just...give us a moment.”

“Yeah, this is fucking embarrassing.” Connie grumbles, and Jean turns back to him to see he’s matched Eren’s redness.

“I’m not embarrassed.” Mikasa interjects, and several eyes roll, Eren elbowing her side.

“Well, I am!” Connie says pointedly at her, the conversation stopping as the waitress returns with their drinks.

“Do you guys need a minute?” She asks, eying the menus still sitting flat on the table.

“Yes, please.” Armin replies, sending her back to the cash register on the other side of the diner. It’s empty save for her, and Jean turns back to Connie when he sighs.

“I’m sorry, Jean. About yesterday.” Sasha nods beside him, and the situation clicks in Jean’s head what this is about. He physically shrinks, leaning back in the booth, uncomfortable. “We wanted to go after you -but your dad stopped us. He’s scary.” Sasha nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“Worse than Coach Shadis.” Sasha shudders, closing her eyes.

“...well, I don’t know about that.” Connie raises a brow at her, and he turns back to Jean as he speaks. “But he made us go back inside. We couldn’t go after you. I’m sorry, Jean.”

Jean stares at him from across the table, at a loss. “Go after me?”

“Yeah, I mean -you looked terrible. You were crying and red in the face -”

“So red!”

“-it was terrible. Sorry to say that but it’s true.” Connie looks down, looking guilty and dejected. 

“I could hear it from in the front office.” Eren says, and Jean turns to him, seeing him looking down at the table. “It was muffled, but I knew it was you. Besides…”

Eren pauses, looking up at Jean. “When he said that you didn’t know me...I thought it was me, like you just hated me that much, but...you had just made an ass of yourself trying to protect me. It didn’t make sense...and then I heard you guys screaming at each other outside. I’m sorry, Jean. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“Same,” Connie chimes in.

“I’m sorry, Jean.” Sasha says as well.

“Truly...I don’t know how I didn’t see it.” Marco looks at Jean, eyes pleading and guilt-stricken. “I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“You guys…” Jean starts, feeling the tears begin to pool. The sorry’s are overwhelming, and the amount of love he’s received today feels almost like it’s too much. He curses, hiding his face in his spare hand. “...it’s not your fault, I should have….I should have said something -”

“We should have seen.” Marco says sadly.

“No!” Jean objects, bringing his hand down to clasp Marco’s arm. “I should have said something. I never opened up to any of you because I thought you didn’t care. But that wasn’t you, it was me. I’m sorry.”

There’s a chorus of objections and a hand is placed on Jean’s head, pulling it to rest against Armin’s chest. He clamps his eyes shut as Armin speaks. “It’s just a shitty situation. Sometimes we can see when our friends are hurt, sometimes we can’t. It’s no one’s fault”

“Sometimes all that we see is our shame,” Jean says weakly, feeling Armin pet at his head. He’s not usually so touchy in front of the others, but he’s beginning to understand that his resistance to showing how he feels is part of the problem. Armin loved him. His friends care about him. He raises his head up, turning to look at everyone. There’s a matching regret in everyone’s faces, and Jean can feel it on his as well. “I didn’t see friends, I just saw the part of my life I was ashamed of. My parents don’t love me, and that made me think no one else could. But whenever we were together, it was like all of that bad stuff didn’t exist, like I was just happy.”

“Because we love each other.” Mikasa says quietly, taking Eren’s hand that’s sitting on the table. Eren sighs and takes hers back, looking down.

“Because we love each other.”

“Wait -are you two -?!” Connie exclaims, staring wide-eyed at the pair. Eren shoots him a glare, offering a hand to him.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Connie!”

“This is just like in It!” Sasha exclaims, taking Connie’s hand. She leans heavily across the table to reach across for Armin, who smiles and leans over as well, taking hers. Jean takes Armin’s, smiling sweetly at the blonde, and turns to take Marco’s. Marco and Mikasa have already clasped their hands together, and Marco and Jean grin at each other, taking each other’s hands.

“PARRTTYYY!” Connie yells, laughing, pulling one of many confetti poppers he had attached to his belt. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU ASSHOLES!”

“Connie! I’ll kick your ass if you keep getting confetti everywhere!” Jean exclaims, lunging at the other. Connie narrowly escapes by hopping over the couch, Jean getting a face full of pillow from his dive.

“Jean, we’ll clean it up later, don’t worry.” Mikasa reassures, but it falls on deaf ears as Jean jumps over the couch and chases Connie.

It was April 6th, a Saturday, and at Jean’s the group was throwing a joint birthday party for Eren and Jean. Eren’s was the 30th of March, and Jean’s was April 7th, and with their newfound balance and friendship a joint party was just the right idea.

Sasha had jacked the music up loud, pulling Marco around in improvisational spins and dance moves. They looked ridiculous, and Eren and Armin were watching them from the couch, Mikasa sitting on the arm. Connie came back into the living room, sliding on the floor and letting out some more confetti. “Banzai!” He laughed, aiming his next party popper at the just arriving Jean. Jean ducked, grinning, and caught Connie around his waist. The pair wrestled as the onlookers snickered.

“These dumbasses.” Eren grinned, earning a stinky look from Connie. Jean took the opportunity to put him in a chokehold.

“HA HA!” Jean exclaimed, victorious. “The real dumbass is you, Connie!”

“Jean, let him go.” Armin says, slightly amused and slightly worried about the reddening Connie. Jean sighs, obeying him instantly. He flops onto the couch besides Armin, pecking him on the lips and pulling back to admire his pink cheeks, Eren shaking his head beside him.

"Your boyfriend is gay, Armin." Eren says, crossing his arms.

"HAHA!" Connie doubles over, laughing. Sasha and Marco have stopped dancing, smiling at the group, Sasha’s cheeks pink.

“It sucks we couldn’t have all hung out here like this all the time.” She says, smile mildly regretful. 

“Sasha…!” Armin warns, voice pointed and eyes glancing from her to Jean. Jean waves his hand around, brushing it off.

“She’s right.” Jean says, feeling guilty.

“Nothing we could do, though.” Eren says pointedly, and Jean looks at him to see him frowning at him, no blame present in his face though. 

“Right. It’s just how it was.” Armin agrees, moving closer against Jean. Jean nods, smiling, and he cups Armin’s cheek to kiss him.

Throughout the night Jean finds himself glancing at the garage door, imagining his father stepping inside. He’d look shocked, probably a bit angry, and his glare at Jean would soften when he’d see him smiling. He’d see Jean with his arms around Armin, a smile on their faces that reflects in those around them. He’d hear jokes and music and their airy laughter. And Jean wouldn’t have to speak to him, to say anything about how happy he is because his dad would see it. 

But Jean’s father never appeared at home. He never came in and left with a smile, or went over to pat Jean’s shoulder and shake hands with his friends. And Jean felt for the first time that he could live with that.

Jean turned to Armin, the boy who did so much for him, and kissed him. Armin’s hands groped at his cheeks, warm and soft and pushing his hair behind his ears, while their friends cheered and squealed in the background. It was harmony, sugary sweet and  _ fine, _ perfectly okay, healthily okay, without any reason not to be.

And Jean was happy.

"That's the last of it, right?"

Armin's leaning against Jean's car, his cheeks flushed from the heat. It's hot, early July, 

"Do you wanna do one last walk through?"

"No, absolutely not." Jean smiles, wrapping his arms around the blonde and pulling him to his chest. Armin groans in complaint.

"We're both sweaty -Jean, come on!" His voice is muffled in the other's chest, but he makes no effort to move away. The two stay like that, Jean leaning his head against the other's. He looked at the house he had grown up in, empty with the windows dark, and feels like he's weightless. He swears if he wasn't holding onto Armin right now he'd be floating away. He smiles to himself, pulling back to cup Armin's cheeks and kiss him. 

"I love you." He mumbles against the blonde's mouth, who laughs, reaching up to grab Jean's wrists.

"I love you, too."

When they break apart Jean doesn't take another look at the house, stepping over to the mailbox to put the key inside of it. His dad would pick it up later, and then he'd sell the house by the end of the summer. And it would never be in Jean's life again. He imagined families would live in it, actual families, with clutter and kids and pet hamsters. They'd have family dinners, and repaint the walls, and during Christmas they'd take a photo at the fireplace. And there'd never be a lonely teenager living there again. 

His car door clips shut, and as he buckles he looks to see Armin grinning at his phone, texting. "I still can't believe you're rooming with Eren."

Jean shrugs. It had just made the most sense. Neither were heading to college,  _ at least not right now  _ Armin always urged, and the animosity they had for each other was now nothing more than play. Eren was taking a gap year to save up money for college, working as a server at a local Italian restaurant. Jean just felt he needed to work things out with himself. He was going to be working with Eren, who had actually gotten him the job, and beyond that he was going to go to therapy. It was a massive hurdle, but one Armin promised to be a part of. 

"No last looks?" Armin asked as Jean pulled out from the side of the road.

"None." Armin leaned over, planting a kiss on Jean's cheek as they started down the road. There wasn’t any need for last looks. Armin was at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These notes are long ahhhh!! But I feel this stuff is important to say. Read it if you’re interested, if not thank you so much for reading!!  
> So, I think overtime in this story some of the characters became less of who they are in the manga/anime, but I feel okay with that. I think Jean especially transformed to a more calm, balanced person. In the manga he has this sense of inadequacy and anger, and in this story I wired that to represent his feeling of worthlessness as a son/child. When I grew up my parents neglected me in a very similar fashion to what I presented in this story, and this has honestly been therapeutic in a way to go back over my past, and live through it with Jean, and work through those feelings again. It was also nice to rewrite that part of my life into something positive with Jean having friends that eventually saw him and his struggles, while I only let someone see once I was in college.  
> I think one character I’ve especially softened in this story though is Eren. I feel like if you extracted all of the canon shit he has to deal with he’d be like this; still a hot-head, but caring towards his parents and friends, and generally at this stage in his life still a sweet child. I feel like a lot will disagree with me on that, but it makes me feel better writing a happy Eren with how the anime/manga has treated him LOL I just want him to be happy!!  
> I’m also absolutely going to rewrite this story, though. A lot of the general stuff and some scenes will be included, but part of why I didn’t update for months was because I found something fundamental I wanted to change and I was just like god, why would I finish this? But I had to just finish it and write it and get it out of my system honestly before rewriting it. I’ll post it here, I’m not going to delete the original, but one of the main differences is that Jean will be the only voice of the story. I also want to expand a lot more on his life and past, and his friendship with the others. I feel like Connie and Sasha barely hold a place in this story and that’s just unfair considering Jean’s close friendship with them in the anime/manga. The only thing that makes me sad about having only Jean’s perspective is that chapter 6 probably won’t work as well, and I’m most proud of that chapter haha.  
> Another thing I want to comment on is the lack of sex. Just to say upfront, I am pro-sex and whatever kink you may have. But the reason I didn’t want sex in this story is that I didn’t want the focus to be on that, like the raw getting down and dirty and turned on, but instead the loving and openness aspect. When Armin has sex with Jean for the first time he’s cautious at first because he’s thinking ‘we haven’t even said i love you’, but then he comes to the conclusion that it’s not about just speaking, and love is said in many different ways. While he doesn’t comment on it, I mean one other example is just doing actions for others: doing the dishes, bringing them soup if they’re sick, making sure they’re taking care of themselves, etc. I wanted this story to show that sex isn’t just raunchy-I’m-turned-on (which I love), but that sex is also a form of love and comfortableness when in the right relationship. I showed afterwards that Armin felt comfortable stripping in front of Jean to change his clothes, and I saw that as both a right of passage for Armin moving into adulthood and also a symbol of security in his relationship/love with Jean.  
> Beyond all of that, I struggled with this story in the fact that I am a short story writer. Specifically, I write flash fiction most comfortably. I write quick emotions and snippets of moments that lead to an overall emotional feel or reaction rather than any real story. This is the longest story I have ever written, and I hope to in the future be able to push and write a longer story (hopefully when rewriting this). But as it is now, I am so proud of this story. I don’t think it’s perfect or great but it’s the first step in me writing longer stories and I just feel incredibly proud of myself. I really want to thank all of the commenters as well who encouraged me and drove me to complete this story. Your words all meant so much. Thank you so much guys <3


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